
OTBfflS 


mmm 




t tin r. 


•' v '« % 







* 

% * 

X J 

I 

A •* 
-T.f 


J 


I 



• *• ‘ ^* 1 " 







“ij 


H 

#S&JB 

spy f v 

■■ 1 »■«- , 













Class T Z_^> 

Book, W8&51 

'T-) 

f? 


f\ 


Copyright N° 


COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. 
























* 


* 









































































t 




























































' 





































/ 





































































































t 














. I • 










r • 






























































'h •'•■V&i $ 














































































































































* * 












’ 

. s 

* . 

- 









































/ * 














































a, %, . •' i i- v s 

















* 




























































' 



























































Roland 
of Altenburg 


* 






























































































»• 









- 


















































































































































Roland 
of Altenburg 

‘ By 

Edward Mott Woolley 



CHICAGO 

HERBERT S. STONE & COMPANY 
MCMIV 







V 


*- n HW UM W i m • 

SUB^RV -!0"J0RF5?S 
TVWi ftopiPS 

SEP 29 1904 

-CmjvrtorhtEnTrv 

Zyt>Jyz%.i^o^ 

CLASS XXo. No. 

<77(?%S 

COPY B 

i jtiHw’J ■ 1 *mxM=x£ZXmm 


T~i — 


COPYRIGHT, 1904, BY 
HP:RBKRT S. STONE & COMPANY 
CHICAGO 



< < 
etc 









CONTENTS 


CHAPTER PAGE 

I. The Departure of the Crown Prince 7 

II. The Quest Begins 19 

III. Mr. Stanley Lockwood 33 

IV. The Prodigal’s Return 43 

V. Miss Katherine Barrington ... 51 

VI. The Prince Receives 61 

VII. A Ride and Its Price 69 

VIII. A Diplomatic Mission 85 

IX. On the Throne 97 

X. At the Grand Hotel 113 

XI. In Castle Rheinwald 127 

XII. Felzenbruck Plays to Win .... 141 

XIII. The Pursuit 159 

XIV. Tracing the Runaways 173 

XV. Castle Stanek 189 

XVI. Count Zito 201 

XVII. The Count’s Petition 21 1 

XVIII. A Discovery . 225 

XIX. An Encounter 233 

XX. The Escape 239 

XXI. On the Highway 249 

XXII. A Prisoner of War 259 

XXIII. The Jailer 269 

XXIV. A Royal Progress 279 

XXV. The Brazilian Orchids 291 

XXVI. The Court of Last Appeal .... 305 

XXVII. Problems 317 

XXVIII. The Return 331 

XXIX. A State Dinner 339 



Roland of Altenburg 


i 

fhe 'Departure of the Crown Prince 

1HE Crown Prince of Altenburg was 
driving down Fifth Avenue in a 

hansom cab. No one who had 

known him when he was hedged 
in by ceremony and hidden by retainers 
would have suspected that he could suc- 
cessfully masquerade in a gray tweed suit 
and a straw hat as an American citizen. 
No suggestion of royalty hung about him 
— there was no hint that for hundreds of 
years his ancestors had worn the purple, 
that he himself was heir to the Prince of 
Altenburg, ruler of a nation. To the un- 
initiated he was merely a good-looking 
young American, erect and well-built. 

Beside him sat a man of middle age, 
Karl von Meyer, Colonel of the House- 

7 



8 


Roland of Altenburg 


hold Guard. Rotund and jovial as he 
was, his natural cheeriness seemed at the 
moment a trifle shadowed. Both he and 
Prince Roland gazed dejectedly upon the 
animated scene about them, and for a 
time neither spoke. 

“This is the moment I have dreaded 
for six splendid months,” Roland said at 
length. “We've been in heaven, Karl, 
and now to go home ” 

“Come, come, my boy, it isn’t so bad as 
that,” put in the Colonel, trying rather 
wearily to buoy up his own spirits. 

“But it is — it is hell,” said the Prince, 
with somber emphasis. 

“This sounds very much like treason,” 
exclaimed the Colonel with a laugh. 

“Oh, you understand.” The Prince put 
his hand impulsively, affectionately on 
the older man’s arm. “You know how 
they tie me down in Altenburg. This 
journey with you has been a glimpse of 
freedom.” 

“You have been seeing the world, my 
boy. But you cannot go on traveling for- 


"The Departure of the Crown Prince 9 


ever. You ought to be satisfied with 
this." 

“Satisfied!” he exclaimed. “This one 
little breath of fresh air fills me with long- 
ing. After the life in the open, the musty 
ceremonies of Altenburg will be more 
unbearable than ever. You know your- 
self that I cannot even cough at court 
without fear of setting a fashion. I can- 
not move except with all the world look- 
ing on. If I were ever indiscreet enough 
to show an emotion, the crowd would echo 
it to the ends of the land. The humblest 
bootblack in New York is freer than such 
a figure-head as I in an old-fogey Euro- 
pean court.” 

“It is as his royal highness, your uncle, 
warned you,” the Colonel replied seri- 
ously. “He was afraid this journey 
would make you restless, but he was 
generous and let you go when he found 
your heart was set upon it. You must 
not forget that. The last words he said 
to me were, ‘Give the lad his head. Let 
him go where he pleases and do what he 


IO 


Roland of Altenburg 


pleases, but let him never forget the 
word duty.’ Have I failed?” 

“Certainly not, my dear Karl,” said the 
Prince affectionately. “I shall, of course, 
do what is expected of me — only,” a little 
wistfully, “it will be harder.” 

Von Meyer laughed in an effort to 
relieve the strain. “His royal highness 
also warned me not to let you fall in 
love,” he said. “At least I’ve kept my 
promise on that point.” 

“There is not the least doubt of that,” 
Roland answered. 

The two men relapsed into a silence 
which was only broken now and then by 
a sigh. As the cab approached Wash- 
ington Square, the Prince became con- 
scious of a disturbance half a block away. 
He was not alone in his curiosity, for 
everybody on the street was watching a 
great red automobile, which seemed to 
be an eccentric runaway. It was evident 
that something was vitally wrong with 
the monster, for it was describing circles, 
narrowly missing the stone curbing at 


The Departure of the Crown Prince 1 1 


each approach. The crowd stood silent 
and inert. No one made a move to assist 
the two women who were alone in the 
car. Roland wondered what kind of men 
they were who could remain quiescent in 
such an emergency. As his cab drew 
nearer he saw that one of the two was 
young and pretty. Then he looked at 
the other, who was acting as chauffeuse, 
and he could see nothing else. With a 
little, half-amused smile she was trying to 
pacify the frightened automobile. For 
an instant the Prince sat watching her in 
a kind of trance. Then he gathered 
himself together, stopped the cab and 
jumped to the street before the Colonel 
knew he had moved. With the certainty 
of sacrificing his dignity and at the risk of 
losing his royal life, Roland studied his 
chance and leaped aboard the maddened 
machine. 

Seizing the steering wheel from the 
clutch of the chauffeuse, he cried, “Your 
foot, if you please; lift your foot.” At 
the same moment he stopped the spark. 


12 


Roland of A 1 ten burg 


The automobile, feeling a new hand at 
the helm, gave a few refractory snorts, 
made a tangent dash of a few yards, and 
came to a shuddering stop. 

“I hope you are not hurt,” Roland said 
simply, as he helped the women to 
alight. 

“Thank you, no. It was too absurd.” 
And the girl who had acted as chauffeuse 
looked confused for the first time. 

“You will take my cab,” said the 
Prince, leading them toward the vehicle 
in which von Meyer was impatiently 
looking at his watch. 

“The Deutschland sails in twenty min- 
utes,” warned the Colonel, with singular 
lack of gallantry. “We have no time to 
lose.” 

“I understand,” said Roland, a hard 
tone in his voice. “Will you please give 
your place to the ladies?” 

The Colonel rose reluctantly, but the 
young women remonstrated. 

“Please don’t. We can easily find an- 
other cab,” said the taller girl, turning a 


'The Departure of the Crown Prince 13 


troubled face toward Roland. “I am 
afraid you will miss your boat. We are 
too grateful for what you have done for 
us to put you to any more inconvenience. 
You must not wait on our account. Do 
hurry, I beg of you.” 

Roland looked down at the girl’s dis- 
tress and within him he felt something 
tighten. “Perhaps it would be better to 
find another cab,” he said quietly. “Keep 
this one, Karl. Go on ahead and see 
about the luggage. I will follow.” 

“But I protest,” said the Colonel. 
“You’ll miss the boat.” 

“I insist,” commanded the Prince. 

The Colonel resumed his place in the 
cab and the young women wondered at 
his obedience to the orders of the other. 
Something of deference in the attitude of 
the older man, something of confidence 
in the tone of the speaker made them 
curious. 

“I shall be there in time,” Roland said 
as the Colonel left him. Finding an 
opportune cabman at his elbow, he 


0 


14 Roland of Altenburg 


ordered a carriage and asked the women 
where they wished to be driven. 

“To the Waldorf, please. We can send 
for the machine from there. Thank you 
again.” And they drove off, leaving the 
Crown Prince of Altenburg alone on the 
curb. For a moment he stood there 
dazed and disconcerted. But the' good- 
natured smiles of the bystanders broke 
into his reverie and he flushed and turned 
away. 

A cabman who had been a part of the 
crowd offered to take the Prince to the 
boat on time or give up his pay, and 
Roland accepted the bargain. He turned 
to a policeman who had just come up. 
“Officer, the machine will be sent for at 
once.” 

On the way to the pier he wondered 
what had prompted him to carry his gal- 
lantry so far as to risk missing the 
steamer. “It was worth it, though,” he 
mused, and smiled at the picture he had 
made on the curbstone when he had been 
dismissed so unceremoniously. “One 


The Departure of the Crown Prince 15 


always finds the most, amusing things to 
do as the holiday is ending,” he said 
audibly. “Why couldn’t this have hap- 
pened weeks ago instead of now when it 
is too late? I wonder who she is. It 
would be rather pleasant to know her 
name.” 

The carriage lurched violently and the 
Prince called hotly to the driver, “You 
needn’t kill your horse, man. It isn’t a 
matter of life and death.” 

“I’ll have you there on time, sir,” re- 
plied the cabman. 

Roland resumed his seat muttering, 
“Of course you’ll have me there on time 
when I’m half inclined to be left.” 

The horse plunged onward, but the 
nearer the cab drew to the dock the less 
anxious Roland felt to reach it. Sud- 
denly the note of a great, deep whistle 
sounded and Roland saw the monstrous 
bulk of the inexorable steamer. 

“We’ll make it, sir,” cried the cabman 
jubilantly, giving a final crack of the 
whip. 


1 6 


Roland of Altenburg 


All was flurry and fluster. The last of 
the stay-at-homes were hurrying off the 
ship, farewells were being waved and the 
sailors were at their posts ready to haul 
in the hawsers when they were cast off. 
Roland saw von Meyer at the rail gazing 
intently into the crowd, and he tried un- 
accountably to avoid the Colonel’s gaze. 

“Oh, if that cabby had only missed the 
boat!” he said to himself. The final 
whistle interrupted his musings, sounding 
prolonged and deafening. 

“Let go your forward line there!” 
roared an officer, when it ceased. 

Farewells were said again. Handker- 
chiefs and hats waved wildly on the ship 
and on the pier. Colonel von Meyer 
rushed about in impotent excitement, 
and Roland, standing with the crowd on 
the dock, watched the great vessel until 
it swung slowly into the stream. But he 
scarcely heard the cheers and farewells. 
He saw the vanishing steamer only in a 
dream. The brain of the Crown Prince 
of Altenburg was unconsciously, involun- 


T 'he Departure of the Crown Prince 17 


tarily busy with a fantasy, in which fig- 
ured a charming face, a maddening smile. 

“I’m a fool,” he said at length, rousing 
himself. “This would make a pretty 
sensation at home if it were known. But 
it is done now. I must face it out.” 
















' 












































































* 



















‘ 





























































- 


I 









































* 


The Quest Begins 


19 


II 

The Shiest Begins 

OLAND Alexander Friedrich, 
Crown Prince of the Grand Duchy 
of Altenburg, Prince of the Holy 
Roman Empire, Baron von Hoch- 
fels, Duke of Melita, Count of Pilnitz, Hon- 
orary Colonel of the 24th Altenburg Hus- 
sars, etc., etc., etc., was twenty-six years of 
age. His uncle, the reigning prince, had no 
son, and at the death of his father, fifteen 
years before, Roland was formally pro- 
claimed heir to the throne. Brought up 
under the strict supervision of old Prince 
Ludwig, the boy’s youth had been a lonely 
one. Between the functions of state at 
which his presence was required, and the 
solitary studies which were exacting and 
continuous, he had never associated with 
boys of his age, and his only friends were 
nobles of the court, oppressed with a 
sense of their own dignity, and officers of 



m 



20 


Roland of Altenburg 


the household guard. His childish curi- 
osity was left ungratified, his boyish 
enthusiasms were stifled. He was 
guarded with a certain polite rigidity, 
and watched lest some dash of individu- 
ality should impertinently make itself 
evident. Often he cast wistful and envi- 
ous glances at boys who stopped on the 
roadside to doff their caps as he rode by 
in state, but his tutors never permitted 
him to forget his exalted station. They 
were too obviously conscious that the 
time when he was to ascend the throne 
was not so far away but that his every 
moment must be spent in preparation. 

At the age of fifteen Roland was be- 
trothed to the little Princess Theresa of 
Felzenbruck, the neighboring province. 
The two had not met since they entered 
their teens, but an alliance was so obvi- 
ously desirable to the two nations that 
there was no thought of protest. Roland 
knew well the meaning of the word duty, 
and it would be as pleasant to marry his 
gay little cousin as to go through any 


The Quest Begins 


21 


other ceremony in his circumscribed life. 
After the betrothal, the two exchanged 
occasional formal letters, and Roland’s 
gifts to the Princess — always chosen by 
Prince Ludwig — were many and valuable. 
But after a time the letters were written 
less frequently, and eventually they 
stopped altogether. 

The Prince continued his studies with 
sincerity, if not with enthusiasm. His 
recreations consisted in studying public 
and private reforms. As he grew older, 
he began to have but little regard for 
precedent and sought information from 
every possible source concerning means 
by which the welfare of his country might 
be furthered. A certain originality in 
him would have its way in spite of restric- 
tions. Personally Roland was the idol of 
his country, but it gave him little comfort 
and no companionship. Ludwig was 
aging rapidly, and the boy realized that 
soon he would be bound to Altenburg for 
all time. His year at Heidelberg made 
him restless, and when it was ended he 


22 


Roland of Altenburg 


felt that he faced his last chance to get a 
breath of fresh air. He wanted to see 
the world, to learn how other people lived, 
and for the moment to lead a different 
life himself. He conceived the idea of 
going to the United States incognito, 
although so radical a performance ter- 
rified the old Prince and the counselors 
of the court. But Roland insisted that 
the journey was necessary to his educa- 
tion, and his pleading finally won the day. 

Karl von Meyer, the boy’s best friend, 
the only one who understood him, was 
selected to act as guide, and the old 
Colonel was eager for the adventure. 
To further his plans for secrecy, Roland 
gave out information that he was to 
travel incognito in China, Japan and 
eastern countries. Then the two slipped 
out of Oberholtz, and, the Prince in the 
guise of a private citizen and von Meyer 
as a German merchant, they crossed the 
ocean to New York. 

Ludwig and his counselors were kept 
informed of the Prince’s movements, but 


2 3 


The Quest Begins 


the truth never reached the public. 
There was much speculation about Ro- 
land’s adventures, and rumors of exciting 
exploits traveled through the newspapers. 
At one time he was reported to be in 
Calcutta, again in Palestine, and once an 
interview with a potentate of the far east 
was supposed to have averted a war. 
The Prince, traveling in America as Mr. 
Donald Scott, smiled as he read these 
telegrams. 

Roland had adopted the name of Scott 
for no other reason than because it was 
short, easily remembered, and written 
with slight effort. Then, too, he had 
reveled as a boy in the works of the sage 
of Abbotsford, whose heroes were more 
alive to him than his best friends. Don- 
ald was, of course, suggested by his own 
name. Every precaution was taken to 
prevent discovery. His luggage was 
marked with his new name, and his mail 
was addressed in that way. An Eng- 
lish tutor had made him familiar with the 
language, and during his six months’ 


24 


Roland of Altenburg 


tour he perfected his idioms until his 
speech bore not the slightest evidence of 
foreign birth. 

When the Prince turned away from the 
pier of the Deutschland, he began to 
realize the peculiarities of the situation. 
It seemed a little ridiculous even to him- 
self — fortunately the only person who 
knew the circumstances. It was too 
humiliating to have lost his head over an 
American girl whom he had seen only 
for a moment, — one who had left him as 
unceremoniously as if he had been a po- 
liceman who had helped her at a crossing. 
To her he was but one of the curious 
crowd of street loiterers who had seen the 
episode of the automobile. She had al- 
ready forgotten him while he was search- 
ing for her blindly and without clues. He 
thought of the trick he had played von 
Meyer, and would have given anything if 
the Colonel had stayed with him. But it 
was too late to be sensible, and he con- 
soled himself by sending a wireless mes- 
sage to his friend. 


The Quest Begins 


2 5 


“Karl von Meyer, S. S. Deutschland at 
sea: Missed boat. Await me at Cher- 
bourg. Sailing on first steamer. Bon 
voyage.” 

“Poor old Karl!” He smiled as the 
humor of the situation came to him. 
“I wish him joy on his lonely journey.” 

As he left the building, he almost ran 
into a man who had stepped into his 
pathway crying, “Cab, sir?” The cabman 
drew back a few paces and looked at Ro- 
land in astonishment. It is not common 
for princes to feel abashed before cab 
drivers, but Roland was for the instant 
flurried. 

“You couldn’t ’a’ missed the boat, sir,” 
said the man. The cabman was evi- 
dently disturbed over the wild ride he 
had taken for nothing. 

“You’re not to blame,” said the Prince 
apologetically. “You brought me here 
on time. You see I remembered some 
very important business. You may take 
me back to the Waldorf.” 

After Roland had explained to the 


2 6 


Roland of Altenburg 


hotel clerk and a few chance acquaint- 
ances that he had missed the boat for 
Europe, and stopped those of the trunks 
which were to have followed on the next 
steamer, he started out aimlessly to find 
some trace of the unknown. Feeling 
like a fool all the time, he yet found in 
himself a curious obstinacy, an inexpli- 
cable persistence. The girl’s face haunted 
him and he felt he must see her again. 
He pulled himself up and wondered what 
new sensation had possessed him. He 
had never before hesitated to follow 
the rational course when it became evi- 
dent. But he finally gave up trying to 
justify himself. After all, it was only a 
harmless adventure and he meant to 
enjoy it. 

The big red automobile had disap- 
peared from Washington Square, and in- 
quiries failed to throw any light upon the 
identity of the owner. A tour of the 
neighboring repair shops produced as 
small an effect. It began to seem a hope- 
less quest, and after searching all the 


The Quest Begins 


2 7 


afternoon, Roland returned dejected to 
the hotel, with a very poor opinion of 
himself. Yet there was some witchery in 
the girl which he could not shake out of 
his mind. He told himself that she was 
no more beautiful than others whom he 
had seen in the west and south, and he 
wondered what there was in her smile 
that it should persist in following him. 
He had forgotten other troublesome 
smiles easily enough. Doubtless to-mor- 
row he would forget this. 

In the evening he went to the opera 
and scanned the boxes with his glasses 
in the faint hope of finding the face that 
bothered him. He was disappointed, 
and returned to the hotel in a mood of 
discouragement. 

Roland slept soundly that night, but he 
woke in the morning with the feeling that 
something was on his mind. When it 
came back into his consciousness he 
found that the night had not solved his 
difficulty. At breakfast he remembered 
the newspapers and sent the waiter for 


28 


Roland of Altenburg 


copies of all of them. For two hours he 
delved among the columns unavailingly. 
The incident of the red automobile had 
escaped the reporters. Then Roland 
said uncomplimentary things about Amer- 
ican journalism. He fumed in his native 
language and took a walk through the 
park. Not a carriage escaped him. He 
eagerly watched each one as it ap- 
proached and felt the same sickening 
sense of disappointment as it rolled past. 
Two or three times he was sure that he 
saw the big red automobile whirling 
around a bend, but in each instance he was 
wrong. Throughout the morning Roland 
walked the streets of New York, impo- 
tent and wretched. To be baffled is to 
be expectant. The very elusiveness of 
the girl made her desirable. The chagrin 
of a particularly foolish failure made him 
the more determined to succeed. Yet he 
could not endure his own ridicule, and in 
a moment of despair he engaged passage 
on the New York for the following 
day. 


‘ The Quest Begins 


29 


Having settled the thing, he had peace 
for an hour or two. He tried to laugh 
the matter off and sought diversion in the 
cafe of the hotel. For a time he was 
almost happy. He would soon be back 
in Altenburg and the nameless beauty in 
New York would be forgotten. Then he 
overheard two men at the next table dis- 
cussing automobiles and the mania was 
again upon him, quite as though the 
question were still open. “Up to this 
moment,” he thought, “I have only made 
a partial fool of myself, but to return 
home unsatisfied would be too complete a 
failure.” 

He resolved to see the girl in spite of 
fate. If he should stop now, after letting 
von Meyer sail away alone, he would 
deserve to be a prisoner in Altenburg for 
the rest of his days. 

Once more in his room, it suddenly 
occurred to him that some one might 
have noticed the number of the automo- 
bile, and he wondered that he had not 
thought of it before. “Boy,” he said to 


30 


Roland of Altenburg 


the lad who answered the call, “I want 
you to find me the cabman who took me 
to the boat the other day. He is sta- 
tioned at Washington Square. Ask for 
the driver who drove Mr. Scott on Satur- 
day to the Deutschland’s pier.” 

While the boy was away Roland tried 
to quiet himself with some magazines, 
but he could not keep his turbulent mind 
upon them. The excitement of the 
chase was too much for his boasted self- 
control. About half an hour had passed 
when there was a knock at the door and 
the cabman entered. 

“Ah,” said the Prince. “I want to talk 
to you for a few minutes. Do you know 
the name of the owner of the automobile 
we saw the other day?” 

“No, sir,” replied the man. “I sup- 
posed the ladies were friends of yours. 
I thought you knew ’em all along.” 

“Well, I don’t, but I want to. That is, 
I want to buy a machine like theirs. You 
don’t happen to remember the make, do 
you, or the number?” 


The Quest Begins 


3i 


“I don’t know the make, but the num- 
ber on the back was 917.” 

“You are sure?” 

“Yes, sir,” said the cabman, “I remem- 
ber it well.” 

“That is all, then. Thank you.” And 
the Jehu bowed his way out, pocketing a 
crisp bill. 

When he was gone, Roland felt a sense 
of relief that he had not known since the 
search began. He at last held the key 
to the mystery. The rest would be easy. 



Mr. Stanley Lockwood 


33 


III 

Mr. Stanley Lockwood 


HE Prince awoke at daylight after 
a night of dreams. At first he had 
seemed to be in a yawl, frantically 
trying to overtake a disappearing 
ocean liner, from the stern of which a beau- 
tiful American girl was signaling to him. 
Then Karl von Meyer had appeared in a 
frightful vision. And at eccentric inter- 
vals the Prince was in an automobile which 
refused to move. It seemed to him that 
he could start the machinery if he only 
knew the number. Finally he remem- 
bered 917, and in the joy of the thought 
he awoke. 

While Roland was at breakfast, one of 
the clerks was engaged in trying to dis- 
cover the name of the owner of “Auto-, 
mobile No. 917,” and at length appeared 
with a card which read, “917, Mr. Stanley 
Lockwood; residence, West 57th St.; 
business address, Empire Building.” 




34 


Roland of Altenburg 


“Her father probably,” he thought to 
himself, and then repeated the name, 
Miss Lockwood, several times. “I wonder 
what her first name is.” 

He soon found a social register at the 
desk and looked up Mr. Lockwood. 
“Ah, here it is,” he exclaimed eagerly. 
“ ‘Lockwood, Mr. Stanley — K. Un. R. Ss. 
Ny. Mt. PI. TF. Cy. Sc. Snc. Jkl. H./94, 
W. 57.’ But where is Mary or Susan or 
whatever they call his daughter?” 

The hotel clerk explained that Mr. 
Lockwood was the son of General Lock- 
wood, and a well-known young man in 
society. 

“Then she isn’t Miss Lockwood after 
all,” said Roland unconsciously. 

“I’m afraid not,” replied the clerk with 
a smile. The Prince left the hotel and 
drove down town. At the Empire Build- 
ing he had no difficulty in finding the 
office, but it was not so easy to secure 
admittance. After enduring the inspec- 
tion of office-boys and clerks, he finally 
reached Mr. Lockwood’s outer office. 


Mr. Stanley Lockwood 


35 


“What is the nature of your business, 
Mr. Scott?” asked the secretary as he 
scrutinized the card. 

“It is — well, it is in regard to automo- 
biles,” the Prince replied, somewhat per- 
plexed. He was not prepared for the 
question. 

“I am very sorry to say that Mr. Lock- 
wood has instructed me not to admit any 
more automobile agents. He really isn’t 
in the market at present.” And the sec- 
retary moved toward the door. 

“Take my card to Mr. Lockwood,” said 
the Prince with an air of authority. “I 
have business with him which I do not 
care to explain to any one else.” 

The tone of his voice was not to be 
questioned. It moved the secretary to 
courtesy. Without further hesitation he 
showed him into the inner office where 
Mr. Lockwood was examining his mail. 
He was not more than thirty, and suffi- 
ciently well-built, but the Prince did not 
like him. He was quite sure of that on 
the instant. 


6 


Roland of Altenburg 


His card was presented by the secretary 
with a word or two of explanation. 
Lockwood looked up with a supercilious 
expression, which faded a little at sight 
of the stalwart figure within the doorway. 

“Ah, Mr. Scott,” he said in a cold voice 
and with a note of interrogation, “you are 
interested in automobiles, I believe.” 

“To a certain degree,” answered Ro- 
land, very erect in his chair. “I happened 
to see an accident to your machine the 
other day, and I was curious about the 
cause of it. I have been investigating 
different makes and wondered whether 
you had had much trouble with yours. 
Does it often take the bit in its teeth in 
that way?” 

“Not at all,” Lockwood replied. “You 
would be quite safe in buying one like it. 
I have tried half a dozen different makes, 
and this is the best I’ve found yet.” 

Roland had inadvertently hit upon one 
of his fads and felt the danger of an 
inundation. He took him up quickly and 
tried to avert it. “Yet the ladies seemed 


Mr. Stanley Lockwood 


37 


to be having a good deal of trouble with 
the levers,” he said, and hoped the name 
he wanted might be mentioned. 

“They were foolish to try to run it,” 
exclaimed Lockwood with some heat. 
“I have told them repeatedly to take the 
chauffeur, but they are headstrong and 
think they know it all.” 

He dared to be familiar with that radi- 
ant creature, yet he could speak of her 
patronizingly. Roland marveled at him. 
To gain time he ventured an excuse. 
For any other reason he would have 
scorned to defend her to such a man. 
“Perhaps it was merely a lack of expe- 
rience. The ladies did not seem to be 
greatly disturbed by the accident.” 

Lockwood’s patronage increased to 
irony. “It’s a poor time to lose your 
nerve,” he said with an unpleasant 
curve of the lips, “with a foot on the 
speed pedal and a hand working the 
brake.” 

Roland would have enjoyed hitting 
him. But in default of an excuse, the 


38 


Roland of Altenburg 


moment’s silence became awkward. He 
grasped at a straw. “Then you thor- 
oughly endorse the machine?” he asked. 

“Absolutely.” Lockwood glanced at 
him keenly. He had not reached his 
present position without some knowledge 
of men and motives. “By Jove!” he said, 
“you must be the man who helped them 
out of the fix.” 

“I was fortunate enough,” said the 
Prince stiffly, “to be driving by at the 
time.” 

“I am glad you came in.” There was 
more cordiality in Lockwood’s manner, 
but he could not entirely rid it of a cer- 
tain distrust. “The ladies were regretting 
that they had hardly thanked you.” 

“It was nothing, I assure you. Their 
thanks were more than adequate.” He 
seemed to be no nearer his object than 
at first. He had never felt so impotent. 
“I hope,” he added, with another effort to 
reach the heart of the subject, “that they 
have quite recovered from the excite- 
ment.” 


Mr. Stanley Lockwood 


39 


“It would take more than a cranky 
automobile,” said Lockwood, rising as if 
to close the interview, “to frighten Miss 
Barrington.” 

Roland gave a little gasp of joy when 
he heard the name, and Lockwood, 
visibly annoyed, moved toward the door. 
Then the thought came to the Prince that 
this might be the other girl. It was too 
horrible to go on through the years think- 
ing of the right girl under the wrong 
name. Lockwood was clearly showing 
him out and Roland despaired. He 
hesitated an instant with his hand on 
the door, and asked as a last hope, “It 
was she, of course, who ran the ma- 
chine?” 

Lockwood’s eyes narrowed into an ex- 
pression that Roland disliked. It was 
evident that his mood was not a pleasant 
one. “It was,” he replied coldly. “But, 
to be frank with you, sir,” Lockwood 
went on, “I don’t see what business it is 
of yours.” 

Roland smiled a little. “I suppose it is 


40 


Roland of Altenburg 


none of my business, but I came here to 
find out the lady’s name. And you 
obligingly told it to me. That is all.” 

The Prince’s composure ruffled Lock- 
wood. He retorted in a heat. “Well, I 
like your nerve. You are going a little 
too far. A trumpery bit of assistance is 
not taken advantage of among gentle- 
men. In New York we do that sort of 
thing as a matter of course.” He waved 
his hand in an insolent gesture. 

Roland answered in his most suave 
manner, “On the whole, I prefer the 
gratitude of the ladies. I shall inquire in 
person after their health.” 

“Miss Barrington would consider any 
inquiry an impertinence. I can speak for 
her.” 

“That will be unnecessary,” said Ro- 
land quietly. “I shall make my own 
inquiries. It will at least give me an 
opportunity to congratulate her upon her 
defender.” 

Lockwood clenched his fist and shook it 
menacingly at the Prince. “I won’t have 


Mr. Stanley Lockwood 


4i 


you calling on her,” he said in a rage. 
‘‘Do you hear?” 

Roland was calm in the midst of tur- 
bulence. “You have no right,” he said, 
“to give me orders. It is an agreeable 
novelty to listen to them.” 

“Well, I have the right to give orders 
to Miss Barrington,” he retorted, with 
an air of defiance. “Now that you have 
learned her name, perhaps it may inter- 
est you to know that I intend to marry 
her.” 

Roland bowed very low. “I am de- 
lighted to hear it,” he said. “With you 
to protect her, she will never again be in 
need of my assistance.” He opened the 
door and went out with the bearing of a 
soldier. 










V 














"i 



































































The Prodigal’s Return 


43 


IV 


The Prodigal's Return 


HE Crown Prince of Altenburg 
was unconscious of everything 
until he found himself on the 
sidewalk. He had missed the 
steamer and wounded the feelings of his 
best friend. He had made a fool of 
himself over a girl only to find that she 
was engaged to be married. He was 
thankful that no one was there to con- 
template his folly. “I am an ass,” he 
muttered, and as no arguments to the 
contrary presented themselves, he ac- 
cepted the conclusion as final. His one 
thought was to return to Altenburg on 
the first boat. The steamship offices 
were but a short distance away, and half 
dazed he entered the first of them. 
“When does the first boat sail?” he asked. 

“Where are you going?” the clerk de- 
manded. 




44 


Roland of Altenburg 


“Europe, of course.” Roland was in 
no mood to be joked with. 

“You’ll have to ask next-door. Our 
boats only go as far as Fall River.” 

Once more on Broadway, the Prince 
paused to collect his thoughts. “For 
three days,” he said, “I have been wan- 
dering about like a cheerful idiot, the 
laughing-stock of every one, including 
myself. Evidently I need a guardian.” 

The steamer he had intended to take 
had sailed early that day, but another one 
was scheduled for two days later, and 
Roland secured a cabin and returned to 
the hotel. Shutting himself in his room, 
he ordered a large drink and a dozen 
newspapers and magazines. Then he 
made a resolve. 

“I shall stay here until sailing time. 
Then I shall have myself personally con- 
ducted to the boat and locked in the 
cabin. There must be no chance of 
escape this time.” 

He was glad that Karl was not there'to 
laugh at him. At least his discomfiture 


‘ The Prodigal’s Return 


45 


was known only to himself. It was quite 
bad enough as it was and it left him 
depressed. He tried to read, but the un- 
pleasant vision of Lockwood obscured 
the page. He wondered why the perver- 
sity of things had brought such a man 
into the situation. He told himself it 
was right that the girl should be engaged. 
He was sure he would not have minded 
at all if only the fellow had been a gen- 
tleman instead of an unspeakable cad. 
There was only one way out of it — to for- 
get her. Dreams of a Mrs. Lockwood 
were too impossible. 

As he restlessly turned the pages of the 
Herald, his eye caught one word which 
stood out as if printed in very large 
type— BARRINGTON. It was in the 
society column, and the paragraph read 
as follows: 

“Mr. and Mrs. Archibald Taylor will 
give a dinner at Sherry’s this evening in 
honor of Miss Katherine Barrington and 
Mr. Stanley Lockwood. Madame Melba 
will sing.” 


4 6 


Roland of Altenburg 


“Katherine, Katherine, Katherine,” the 
Prince said over and over to himself, 
“Katherine Barrington.” 

Then he sent for the social register and 
found the names “Mr. and Mrs. Porter 
Barrington, Miss Katherine Barrington, 
Madison Ave.” Going to the desk, he 
began to write, but three times he tore up 
the note and began again. It took him 
half an hour to finish the letter and call a 
messenger. It was only after the boy 
had departed that he remembered his 
resolve, not yet an hour old, with a sense 
of guilt. But it was easy enough to 
justify himself. He had missed his 
steamer in order to see Miss Barrington, 
and it seemed absurd to allow her en- 
gagement to make a difference. She 
would hardly ignore his note, he thought; 
in any case he would have the satis- 
faction of knowing that he had done his 
best. Besides, in this case it was clearly 
his duty to show Lockwood that he was 
not so easily cowed. He had taken the 
plunge now in any case, and it quieted 


' The Prodigal’s Return 


47 


him. He picked up one of the discarded 
magazines and found it satisfying. The 
restlessness was gone. 

At length the boy returned with a note, 
the contents of which made the Crown 
Prince of Altenburg feel like shouting for 
joy. He alternately whistled and sang 
for the next half-hour. 

Suddenly the door opened and Karl 
von Meyer, Colonel of the Household 
Guard of Altenburg, stood before him. 
The Prince gasped as if he had seen 
a ghost, but the reality of his visitor 
was evident when he placed a battered 
straw hat on the table and said with re- 
sentful emphasis, “You couldn’t lose me.” 

Roland laughed his boyish laugh, and 
his joy in the return of his friend was so 
genuine that Karl’s anger soon disap- 
peared. 

“Where did you come from and how 
did you get here?” Roland asked after a 
moment. 

“I could never go back without you. I 
could not look your uncle in the face. 


48 


Roland of Altenburg 


When the boat started and I saw you 
were not there, I begged the captain to 
put me off — I told him who you were. 
But he wouldn’t — the hound. He said I 
could go back with the pilot if I dared. 
If I dared— ha! — I would have swum 
before going on alone.” 

“Good old Karl!” 

“But wait!” the Colonel continued 
excitedly. “I have only begun. Well, 
about evening they tied a rope about my 
waist and let me down into a little ship 
with the pilot. The waves were like 
mountains, and there we tossed about all 
night. I supposed they would go back at 
once, but it seemed that we had to wait 
‘to take in the Cedric.’ ” 

Roland put his hand affectionately on 
his shoulder. “Poor Karl!” he said. 

The Colonel’s excitement was not 
easily soothed. He hurried on. “I 
offered money which I didn’t have; it 
was in my trunk on the steamer. But it 
was no use. We rolled and rolled, and I 
thought I should die. Finally a steamer 


The Prodigal’s Return 


49 


almost ran us down. Then — another rope 
and the pilot and I were on the Cedric. 
Then they quarantined us and put us 
through the custom-house. And now, 
Gott sei gedankt, hier bin ich! ” 

With a sigh of relief the Colonel threw 
himself into a big, comfortable chair, his 
excitement vanishing. Roland stood 
over him, to sympathize with his friend. 
“It was bully of you, Karl,” he said, “after 
I had played you such a trick, too. But 
I’ve needed you badly. I believe it is 
only you who has kept me all these years 
from making an ass of myself.” 

Something serious in Roland’s voice 
moistened the older man’s eyes. “Ah, 
Roland, Roland,” he said gently, “I’ve 
never a fear of you. It’s the old that are 
foolish in this world. The young are 
wise enough to forget the wisdom of their 
elders.” There was a moment’s pause 
before he brought himself up cheerily. 
“But what have you been doing, my boy, 
while the cat was away? Come, confess. 
Tell me all about it.” 


50 


Roland of Altenburg 


Roland looked at his watch and grew 
instantly restless. “Fll tell you the whole 
story, Karl, at dinner. In the meantime, 
make yourself comfortable.” 

“And where are you going now?” 

There was a perceptible hesitation 
before the Prince answered. “You 
remember the young lady in the red 
automobile? She has asked me to take 
tea with her.” 

The only reply as he went out was a 
groan from the Colonel. 


Miss Katherine Barrington 


5 1 


V 


Miss Katherine Barrington 


HE prince of romance never loses 
his self-confidence, but Roland was 
very modern, and at times pain- 
fully human. As he drove up 
the avenue and finally stopped before an 
arched entrance of gray stone, he could 
not control an inward quaking. Under 
an appearance of composure, he specu- 
lated about what be could possibly say 
to so splendid a creature, fearing a little 
that he might not carry off the situation. 
He wondered idly if the field of battle 
would not be a much lighter test of 
courage than this, and it was the daring 
of a soldier that he finally called to his 
aid as he rang the bell. The servant 
took his card and showed him into the 
drawing-room. There was something 
restful in the space of the big apartment 
that quieted him for a moment, but when 




S 2 


Roland of Altenburg 


he heard the rustle of a gown and Miss 
Barrington entered, her dark eyes gleam- 
ing, her red-gold hair massed high, that 
strange sensation again swept over him. 
She gave him her hand quite frankly and 
he felt as though he had known her for 
years. His confidence returned. 

“It is good of you to come,” she said. 
“My cousin and I have been feeling that 
we were curt the other day. It was inex- 
cusable after what you had done. Did 
you realize how grateful we really were?” 

“You were much too grateful, Miss Bar- 
rington,” he answered. “It did not de- 
serve a thought. Any man would have 
done it.” 

“But any man didn’t,” she laughed. 
“And there were several others who 
stood around and watched us.” 

Roland looked at her. “They were too 
much absorbed in watching you, I fancy, 
to think of your peril.” 

She resented the compliment obviously. 
A certain coldness crept into her manner 
as she said, “It was fortunate that you 


Miss Katherine Barrington 


53 


thought of it. My father would like to 
thank you.” 

They sat down, she on a sofa behind a 
little table, he on a straight chair near 
by. He leaned toward her rather 
abruptly and said, “Miss Barrington, I 
did not come here for thanks. I will not 
have you think that I estimated that 
petty service as anything at all. I have 
rejoiced in it ever since, but not for that." 

“It is generous in you to rejoice,” she 
said in an effort to change the drift of a 
conversation that threatened personali- 
ties, “when we made you miss the 
steamer. I hope it was not altogether 
our fault.” 

“It was entirely your fault,” said Roland 
slowly, his eyes upon hers. 

Miss Barrington was surprised. She 
showed it. Yet she expressed only the 
conventional regret. “I am so sorry,” 
she said a little stiffly. “How can you 
forgive us?” 

“Too easily,” he answered. “I reached 
the dock in time. It was not that.” 


54 


Roland of Altenburg 


“And you changed your mind at the 
last moment?” she asked. 

“Yes,” he said, “I changed my mind.” 

She took alarm. There was a startled 
look in her eyes and she was obviously 
relieved by the entrance of the butler 
with tea. He lighted the alcohol lamp 
and retired. Miss Barrington welcomed 
the occupation which the brewing of the 
tea gave her. To Roland, furtively watch- 
ing her, the process became a kind of en- 
chantment. He had never dreamed that 
so simple a thing could be so enthralling. 
The talk went on, but his mind was upon 
her and not upon what she was saying. 

“I suppose you didn’t care much about 
it anyway,” she was answering him 
lightly. “A man can always follow his 
impulses. Really it is the only thing to 
do. We women would be much better 
off if we did it oftener.” 

“Youibelieve in that, do you?” 

“We all believe in it, Mr. Scott, but we 
have not the courage that you had. If I 
should stand quietly on the dock while 


Miss Katherine Barrington 


55 


the steamer sailed away without me, my 
friends would avoid me. They would 
call me queer. And it is better to be 
vulgar than to be queer.” 

“Yes, vulgarity is its own shield and its 
own sword,” said Roland. 

“And to be queer,” she continued, “is to 
have no defense. Nothing happens. 
You just suddenly find yourself alone.” 

But Roland had not come there to talk 
about eccentricity. The moments were 
precious. It might be the last time. He 
drank the tea he had been holding, and 
put the cup down on the tray. “Miss 
Barrington,” he said, “you will never find 
yourself alone. With me it is different. 
For six months I have been traveling in 
America, and you are the first woman 
that I have seen.” 

She laughed — and her laugh was some- 
thing to hear. “Where can you have 
been?” she said. “On ranches, or in the 
mines, or did you go as far as the Klon- 
dyke?” 

“I went everywhere,” he answered 


56 


Roland of Altenburg 


gravely, “but I did not see a woman who 
could make me turn back from the thing 
I meant to do.” 

The girl tried to throw off the weight 
of something serious. “You terrify me, 
Mr. Scott. I have a feeling as of a 
relentless fate.” 

He took her up. “It is a relentless fate, 
Miss Barrington. Don't try to avoid it. 
You must let me know you. It may be 
for only a few days. I can’t go on for- 
ever missing steamers. But for that 
little time let me see you now and then. 
It is a simple sporting proposition. Take 
pity on me and let us be good fellows 
together.” 

Miss Barrington was not without a 
sense of humor and it came to her aid. 
Roland’s apparent sincerity disarmed her, 
and from being merely tolerant, she be- 
gan to be amused. She was no longer a 
debutante, but a woman who had seen 
enough of the world not to take the con- 
ventions of society too seriously. The 
proposed adventure had an attractive side. 


Miss Katherine Barrington 


57 


“You call this a sporting proposition,” 
she said, “yet it seems rather one-sided. 
You do not show me what I am to get out 
of it” 

“That is where you gamble,” Roland 
answered. “You must trust me for that. 
I promise to try at least to make it 
amusing.” 

“But we might differ,” she retorted, 
“about what is amusing.” 

“That is just the point. It will be 
amusing to find out where we do differ. 
We can’t disagree about that.” 

“You are quite wrong,” she said with 
emphasis. “The possibilities of disagree- 
ment are practically unlimited.” 

“It is that which makes the game ex- 
citing,” he answered. “It requires so 
much skill to avoid them.” 

“But as far as I can see,” she said pen- 
sively, “it is my play to move into them.” 

“And mine to steer you away. I take 
the responsibility. All I ask of you is to 
be passive.” 

“I see. You come to me as a last 


58 


Roland of Altenburg 


resort.” She laughed at him and he did 
not in the least mind. “When all others 
fail, after six months of fruitless wander- 
ing, you appeal to me to be a kind of 
home for the friendless.” 

“Precisely,” he agreed. “After six 
months of traveling with an elderly gen- 
tleman and an unsympathetic Baedeker, 
I need a good Samaritan.” 

“That is a way of saying that you would 
like to come to dinner.” She had let her- 
self go and her eyes shone. 

“No.” Roland took it all in. It was 
much, but it seemed so little. “I am not 
grasping. I don’t ask that of you — at 
least, not yet. Suppose we go for a drive 
instead. I have never seen the animals 
in the park. You should not let me go 
away in ignorance. Won’t you show 
them to me?” 

“Certainly not,” the girl declined de- 
cidedly. 

“Where is your sporting blood?” he 
asked. “The good Samaritan did not 
need a chaperon.” 


Miss Katherine Barrington 


59 


“But he never met you.” And she 
looked at him in a way that she had. It 
was hard to keep his head. So he rose 
and stood over her. “Let me give a din- 
ner for you then,” he said. “Pretend that 
I am a long-lost cousin or a rejected 
suitor or something. You invite the 
guests. I exact only one thing. You 
must sit at my right.” 

“You are generous,” she answered, “but 
not now. You may come in again to see 
me if you like, but please no dinners.” 

He accepted the alternative with a 
laugh. “Early to-morrow then, and in 
the meantime do think up ways by which 
I may show you my gratitude. Really 
you have saved my life.” 

“What a responsibility!” she said. 
“You must share it with me. But to- 
morrow,” she added with a wicked little 
gleam in her eyes, “is my day for the 
working girls’ club. I shall be out all the 
morning.” 

“It is against the rules to shirk like 
that,” he replied. “I am on your hands. 


6o 


Roland of Altenburg 


You can’t escape. To-morrow before 
breakfast you are going for a ride in the 
park.” 

“Really!” she said involuntarily. “How 
did you know? That is what I do every 
morning.” 

“Of course you do. I knew it.” He 
was exultant. “I am gifted with second 
sight. There was a fairy godmother at 
my cradle. You may not know it your- 
self, but to-morrow you will show me the 
animals.” 

With that he left her while she looked 
at him and smiled. 


‘ The Prince Receives 


6 1 


VI 


The Prince Receives 


OR an hour after Roland returned 
to the hotel he watched the bril- 
liant sunset from his window. 

But the orange-tipped clouds and 
the purple glow on the house-tops were 
merely a background for his turbulent 
thoughts. Things had changed for him 
in the past hour. He persuaded himself 
that he had gone into the adventure to 
spite Lockwood rather than to please 
himself. But he recognized the fact 
that in the presence of Miss Barrington 
he had forgotten everything else. He 
went over their talk in detail with a 
glow at his heart. The picture of her 
as she sat making tea in the half-light 
came back to him vividly. He Relighted 
in it. He brooded over it. Suddenly 
little Theresa of Felzenbruck came into 
his mind as he had seen her last, and he 




62 


Roland of Altenburg 


wondered if she had grown to be like 
Miss Barrington. She had been slim and 
awkward and very much a child, but 
even then there was a certain wild 
charm about her. He was willing to 
grant that, even while he felt that there 
was nothing in her to cast this spell upon 
him. 

Von Meyer came in, and after he had 
heard the Prince’s story, he laid a friendly 
hand upon his shoulder. “So, you have 
seen her,” he said. “You missed the boat 
for it and you did it. Now are you con- 
tent to go home?” 

Roland grew conscious through his. 
reverie of the anxiety in the Colonel’s 
eyes. “Give me a few days, Karl,” he 
said wistfully. “It was such a little talk 
with her. I can’t leave it at this. But 
don’t worry, Karl. You can trust me.” 

“You are playing with fire, my son,” 
replied the older man seriously. 

“No, I am merely sitting in front of it, 
trying to get warm,” was the answer. 
“We will sail in a few days, but in the 


' The Prince Receives 


63 


meantime let us enjoy ourselves. It is 
positively my last chance, Karl. The rest 
of my life will be serious enough.” 

The Colonel went to his own room, 
shaking his head doubtfully, and Roland 
stayed where he was, watching the twi- 
light sky. It seemed easy after all to do 
what one liked, to be a part of the great 
world. He made plans for nearly every 
hour of the week which was to follow, 
taking it for granted that Miss Barring- 
ton’s time was quite at his disposal. 

“She will marry Lockwood, confound 
him,” he said half aloud, “and I shall 
marry the little Princess. So there can 
be no harm in this.” 

His reverie was interrupted by a knock 
at the door, and in response to his invita- 
tion Mr. Stanley Lockwood entered. The 
Prince, taken by surprise, needed but an 
instant to recognize his duties as a host. 

“I prefer to stand, thank you,” was 
Lockwood’s stiff response to his cordiality. 
He was pale and manifestly found it hard 
to retain his composure. 


6 4 


Roland of Altenburg 


“As you choose/’ replied the Prince, 
with a quick lift of his chin. “What can 
I do for you?” 

There was an awkward pause for a 
moment, Roland remaining unmoved 
and cool beside the table, his cigar 
between his fingers and his eyes on the 
twitching countenance of his antagonist. 

“When you called this morning,” ^ 
Lockwood said at length in a voice which 
he could not keep quite level, “I made up 
my mind that you were trying to work 
some game, and what I have learned 
since has convinced me of it.” 

“And no doubt you will inform me,” 
Roland said quietly, “what the game is.” 

“You know well enough,” said Lock- 
wood, fast losing his self-possession. 

“I am sorry to disagree with you,” said 
the Prince, “but I haven’t the faintest 
idea what you are driving at.” 

“Come, come, Scott.” Lockwood gave 
it up and let himself go. “This isn’t a 
time to waste words. You have taken 
advantage of a trifling accident in the 


The Prince Receives 


65 


street to try to make the acquaintance of 
a certain lady. She tells me that you 
actually had the nerve to call on her 
to-day.” 

Roland grew white about the lips. 
“Has she done me the honor to send me 
this message?” he asked. 

“She wouldn’t stoop so low,” was Lock- 
* wood’s dry retort. “I’d like you to under- 
stand that she only condescended to see 
you because she was too generous to have 
you thrown out of the house. You are 
nothing but a damned adventurer.” 

“Stop!” said Roland without the slight- 
est show of passion. “I have had enough 
of this. I am not answerable to you for 
anything I have done, or for anything I 
may do in the future. Will you do me 
the favor to close an unpleasant inter- 
view?” 

Lockwood began to wonder why he 
had come. But he was very sure of his 
opinion of the tranquil reprobate who 
assumed commanding airs before him. 
“Well, I’ll end it fast enough,” he said 


66 


Roland of Altenburg 


unpleasantly, “but I warn you that you 
would be wise to stay away from Madison 
Avenue. You won’t find it very comfort- 
able if you keep up this business. We 
have a special way of treating damned 
blackguards who go sneaking about in 
wolfs clothing.” 

Ridiculous as he found it all, Roland 
was tired of the situation and of the boor- 
ish abuse. 

“There is a limit to patience, Mr. Lock- 
wood,” he said, still quietly. “You force 
me against my will to throw you out.” 

With a quick jerk of the arm, he seized 
Lockwood by the collar, twirled him 
around and very firmly marched him to 
the door. 

Lockwood struggled to escape from the 
clutch of the man he had reviled, but he 
was like fluttering paper in a grasp of 
steel. Roland had been well trained, and 
he made a point of keeping himself in 
condition. Heavy as Lockwood was, he 
handled him easily enough. Marching 
him to the door, Roland opened it and 


The Prince Receives 


67 


carefully deposited him, limp and heated, 
in the hallway. As he closed the door 
again, he heard Lockwood sputter, “You 
shall pay for this. You shall pay dearly.” 

Once more alone, Roland began to be 
sorry that he had lost his temper. He 
knew his position to be extremely, shaky. 
He dared not risk an exposure of his 
identity, and it would not be easy for 
Donald Scott, without connections of any 
kind, to prove that he was not an adven- 
turer. He could secure financial refer- 
ences from his banker, of course, but he 
could not endure meeting Lockwood’s 
insufferable arrogance in that way. He 
wondered what would happen if he should 
be denounced as an impostor. If he 
defended himself by falling back upon 
his name and titles, there would be a 
storm of scandal and he would return to 
Altenburg a subject for jest and gossip 
and a disgrace to his heritage. But in 
thinking it over, Roland could not help 
smiling at Lockwood’s obvious jealousy. 
The man was too insignificant to be taken 


68 


Roland of Altenburg 


seriously, and the Prince had no fear of 
his threats. He began to regard his 
interference as a huge joke, and it was 
this side of it that was uppermost when 
he told the story to von Meyer. 

The Colonel saw it from a different 
standpoint. “I shall send him my card/' 
he said indignantly. “I will fight for 
you.” 

“And be jailed for your pains,” laughed 
Roland. 


A Ride and Its Price 


69 


VII 

A Ride and Its Price 

H RINCE ROLAND was called 
early the next morning and rose 
promptly, eager to begin his week 
of frivolity. Von Meyers pro- 
tests the night before, guarded as 
they were) had only served to confirm 
him in his purpose. They had dined 
together at a quiet French restaurant 
where there was music, and lingered a 
long time over their coffee without ex- 
changing a word. Roland had made 
light of the Colonel’s fears, being too 
preoccupied with his castles in Spain to 
care to listen to them. Even the comic 
opera, later on, failed to rouse him from 
his dreams. The gestures of the come- 
dian and the rhythm of the dancing, 
which were applauded by the audience, 
formed merely a pleasant background for 
his reveries. 



70 


Roland of Altenburg 


As he dressed the next morning he felt 
in the mood to be up and away. A can- 
ter in the cool air of the early morning 
would clear his mind and help him to 
reason things out. And the possibility 
of meeting Miss Barrington — but he 
would not let himself think of that. He 
tried several horses before he found one 
to his liking, but he was quite satisfied as 
he rode up the avenue. The exhilara- 
tion of it got into his blood, and as he 
turned into the park he was ready for any 
adventure. When it confronted him, 
rounding a bend in the bridle-path, he 
advanced to meet it promptly. 

The color came into Miss Barrington’s 
cheeks as she saw him, but she was 
obviously annoyed. She had had time to 
regret her complaisance. 

“The gods are good to me this morn- 
ing, Miss Barrington,” he said as he reined 
in his horse. “You will not venture to 
oppose them, will you? You will let me 
ride with you?” He looked at her so 
gravely that she had not the heart to refuse. 


A Ride and Its Price 


7 1 


“But I was just going home,” she 
answered. “You should have come an 
hour earlier.” Her resentment was be- 
ginning to disappear and there was no 
sign that she knew of the unpleasant epi- 
sode of the day before. 

“Please come and play just a little 
longer,” he begged. “The working girls 
can wait.” 

“It is enticing, isn’t it? I think I must 
this morning. But after this I shall be 
your invisible playmate.” And she turned 
and rode at his side, while the groom fol- 
lowed stolidly. 

“Oh, do you know that wonderful little 
book?” Roland asked in surprise. “I saw 
it in a shop the other day and its title 
appealed to me — The Invisible Playmate. 
At that moment I was particularly 
lonely.” 

“I have cried myself to sleep over it 
more than once,” she said, and won- 
dered what manner of man this really 
was. 

“I have never done that,” Roland 


72 


Roland of Altenburg 


answered, “but I reread it and sent 
copies to my friends.” 

“A man is known not so much by the 
company he keeps, as by the books he 
sends away,” Miss Barrington said. “You 
can’t be very bad if you liked The In- 
visible Playmate.” 

“I am not so sure of that,” said the 
Prince. “I believe even a hardened 
criminal would like it.” 

“But it is not consistent in you. A 
man of your — what shall I say — nerve? — 
rarely likes a book of that kind. Per- 
haps you are really different.” 

Before he could answer she touched 
her horse with the whip and he broke 
into a gallop. Roland quickly overtook 
her and they dashed on in silence. She 
rode very straight and he found himself 
keeping a little behind so that he might 
watch her. When she reined in her horse 
she turned with a laugh. “I thought you 
were going to be amusing.” 

“How can I remember to be amusing 
when I am too happy for words?” he said. 


A Ride and Its Price 


73 


“I have what I want this morning. If I 
have to pay for it the rest of my life, it 
will still be worth while.” 

There was something tense in his voice 
which made her afraid to look at him. 
For an instant she was silent. Then she 
gave a little laugh to break the strain. 
“You paid in advance,” she said. “You 
lost the steamer.” 

It was so little to pay for a ride like this 
that he brushed it aside with a word. 

“It’s rather odd, Mr. Scott,” she went 
on, “but I don’t even know where you 
live. We have been friends for a long 
time, you know” — this with a vague little 
smile. “Tell me something about your 
life.” 

“It has been too prosaic,” Roland 
answered, “to be interesting — a shut-in 
life, almost monastic. My home is in 
Altenburg and I have lived there nearly 
always.” 

“Altenburg!” said the girl with interest. 
“I love it. We once spent a winter there.” 

“Really?” Roland was startled. He 


74 


Roland of Altenburg 


followed it up. “Did you go out much? 
Do you know people there?” 

“I was studying, but my father had 
business there and my aunt made friends. 
They had an opportunity to be presented 
at court, but father was frightened by the 
knickerbockers and he vowed that he 
would never bend his knee to the old 
Prince.” 

Roland laughed. “And so you dicf not 
see Prince Ludwig?” 

“Oh, frequently when he was driving, 
and the Crown Prince, too. I quite fell 
in love with his photographs. I wonder 
if he has changed and stiffened like the 
rest. They all seem like puppets — those 
little potentates.” 

Roland leaned down to adjust his stir- 
rup strap. Here was a new and honest 
point of view. It pleased his sense of 
humor. “Do you think you would like 
that kind of life?” he asked. “To be shut 
in behind stone walls of convention; to 
be told what you must think and how you 
must act; to be watched and criticised 


A Ride and Its Price 


75 


and never allowed to live!” The last 
word was almost a cry — and then he 
grew conscious that he had startled her. 
He pulled himself together and went on 
more quietly: “You don’t know what it is, 
Miss Barrington — a life like that. I have 
seen enough of it to be sorry for your 
puppets. Don’t you think you could be 
sorry for them, too?” 

She looked up into his eyes and some- 
thing within her answered them. But 
she only said softly, “I have never 
thought of it in that way. It seemed an 
enviable life — with all that glitter.” 

They broke into a gallop suddenly, the 
girl leading, and she did not stop until 
they turned out of the park. It was in 
silence that they crossed to the Barring- 
ton house, and it was with hardly a word 
that they parted there. 

Roland rode slowly back to the hotel, 
and, after a tub and breakfast, met the 
inevitable reaction. An unaccountable 
melancholy fastened itself upon him. All 
the color seemed to have suddenly gone 


76 


Roland of Altenburg 


out of his life. Von Meyer had left the 
hotel early without leaving any word, and 
there was no one to break the Prince’s 
loneliness. The only thing that eased 
his mind was the care that he bestowed 
upon the selection of a bunch of violets 
which he sent Miss Barrington. 

Late in the morning the following 
sinister note was handed to him: 

“Donald Scott, The Waldorf: 

“ Dear Sir: — Be good enough to call at 
my office at your earliest convenience. 

“Very truly yours, 

“Porter Barrington.” 

“Does he take me for a servant?” 
Roland asked indignantly. “He will be 
disappointed if he expects his commands 
to be obeyed.” 

He tore the note into fragments. 
Then he suddenly remembered that this 
was the father of Miss Barrington, and 
the thought cooled his anger. The note 
began to trouble him. But he ignored 
the summons and in the evening he was 


A Ride and Its Price 


77 


waited upon by a representative of Mr. 
Barrington, who quietly and diplomatic- 
ally repeated the request that he appear 
during the next forenoon at the office of 
the capitalist. 

“You may say to Mr. Barrington,” 
answered Roland testily, “that I shall be 
at my apartments at noon to receive him 
if he has business with me.” 

The secretary looked astonished. “It 
is not my prerogative to advise you,” he 
answered, “but Mr. Barrington is a man 
of determination, accustomed to having 
his wishes obeyed. I hope you will con- 
sider carefully.” 

“You have my answer, sir,” said Roland. 

During the night Roland was restless. 
But it was not entirely the gravity of the 
situation that troubled him. He appre- 
ciated its seriousness, but somehow he 
rejoiced in it, too. It thrilled him. It 
put him on his mettle. At d'aylight he 
rose and rode out to the park. He tried 
the bridle-paths until nine o’clock, but 
Miss Barrington did not appear. He 


78 


Roland of Altenburg 


wondered if she, too, thought him 
impertinent. He must have made a 
mistake somewhere. He must have 
antagonized her. Perhaps the violets 
were the straw too much. Yet he could 
not refrain from repeating the gift. He 
ate little breakfast and paced the floor 
until noon. 

Promptly at the hour a card was 
brought to him, and in spite of himself 
his hand shook as he took it, for it bore 
the name of Mr. Porter Barrington. 

The millionaire was shown into the 
Prince’s apartments. He was a distin- 
guished-looking man, not unkindly in 
appearance, and Roland lost some of his 
resentment when he saw him. “Her 
father!” he thought. “The likeness is 
clear as day.” 

He offered Mr. Barrington a chair and 
made some preliminary remarks about 
the weather. His visitor was calm and 
business-like. “I am accustomed to have 
young men call upon me when I re- 
quest it,” he said suavely, “but doubtless 


A Ride and Its Price 


79 


you have reasons for adopting the un- 
usual course. The business I have with 
you is especially personal and confi- 
dential — annoying, I must say. I regret 
it exceedingly.” 

Roland was surprised at his tone. He 
knew what was coming, but he somehow 
felt a liking for the man. 

“To be frank,” continued Mr. Barring- 
ton, as Roland made no comment, “I can- 
not countenance your acquaintance with 
my daughter. The situation is peculiar. 
You have taken advantage of an accident 
to enter my house without the slightest 
introduction.” 

“You are indeed frank,” said Roland 
coldly. 

“I appreciate fully the fact that you did 
my daughter and her cousin a service, and 
neither they nor I will forget it. As an 
evidence of my gratitude I shall be glad 
to make what must be an inadequate 
recognition of your gallantry. In return 
I must ask you not to see my daughter 
again. You see I waste no time on 


8o 


Roland of Altenburg 


words, but I trust you will understand 
me,” From a large leather pocket-book 
he took a check, and said, “Will you 
name your figure?” 

Roland had risen sharply from his 
chair at the first mention of a gift. He 
stood absolutely silent and immobile, his 
fine eyes fixed with a curious expression 
upon his visitor. As Mr. Barrington 
looked up at the tall distinction of the 
younger man, it was borne in upon him 
swiftly that he had made a mistake. 
Only his absorption in his errand had 
prevented an earlier discovery. He was 
too much a man of affairs not to know 
something of men. 

“Mr. Barrington,” Roland said finally, 
and there was a slight tremor in his 
voice, “wouldn’t it be a little better to 
tell me that I am an adventurer and an 
impostor — a blackmailer who has sought 
the acquaintance of your daughter to 
extort money? I have never before been 
flattered in just this way. You honor me 
too far.” 


A Ride and Its Price 


8 1 


There was that in his voice which 
brought the older man to his feet. He 
was pale but firm. “Do I understand 
that you reject my proposition?” he asked. 

“Do you really think me a man to sell 
my friendship for money?” he said with a 
touch of bitterness. “You are Miss Bar- 
rington’s father, and in spite of all this I 
respect you, but I wish you to know that 
there is only one person in the world who 
can bid me sever my acquaintance with 
that lady — and that person is Miss Bar- 
rington herself. Do you understand me, 
sir?” 

“You defy me, then?” asked the old 
millionaire, not without an unacknowl- 
edged admiration for his antagonist. 

“You may call it what you like,” said 
Roland quietly. “I have given you my 
answer.” 

“Since you refuse a peaceful settle- 
ment,” Mr. Barrington retorted in some 
heat, “you must accept the consequences. 
I shall take matters into my own hands. 
Good morning, sir.” 


82 


Roland of Altenburg . 


“Good morning,” echoed Roland. 

When his visitor was gone he flung 
himself into a chair. At the end of ten 
minutes he rose and set himself the 
task of answering his letters. He had 
decided on a radical course of action — the 
only course that remained open to him. 
He would reveal his identity to the girl 
and secure her promise of secrecy. He 
would place himself in the right light 
before her, at least. For the others he 
cared nothing. Then he would bid her 
farewell and take his departure. Before 
he reached this decision he went over the 
ground pretty thoroughly. He could not 
go away and let her believe him an im- 
postor, frightened off by threats. She 
would forget him quickly enough without 
that. He knew he could have little peace 
of mind in the future if she misjudged 
him. He would risk exposure rather 
than be so unfair to her and to her faith 
in him. But Roland was forced by cir- 
cumstances to change his mind. Things 
did not work out as he expected. Miss 


A Ride and Its Price 


^3 


Barrington was not at home when he 
drove to her door, and in a mood of 
despair he returned to the hotel. He 
found von Meyer anxiously awaiting him 
with a cablegram. It was from the prime 
minister of Altenburg and was in cipher, 
the translation of which read as follows: 

“I am grieved to inform your royal 
highness that his royal highness, Prince 
Ludwig, has been the victim of an 
attack of paralysis and is dangerously 
ill.* While a fatal termination is not ex- 
pected, we must be prepared, and the 
speedy return of your royal highness to 
Altenburg is most earnestly desired. 

‘Von Becker.” 




A Diplomatic Mission 


85 


VIII 

A Diplomatic Mission 

flY POOR little romance is ended ; 
Karl,” the Prince said when he 
had recovered from the shock 
of the cablegram. “This is its 
death warrant.” 

The older man placed his hand con- 
solingly on the young man’s shoulder and 
said quietly, “Donald Scott is dead, but 
God save the Crown Prince!” 

They were silent for a moment and 
then the duties of the hour pressed 
upon them. It was necessary to prepare 
for a hurried departure. The Kaiser 
Wilhelm would sail the following morn- 
ing, von Meyer learned, and passage was 
secured. There were orders to give and 
cables to send, and, after a busy hour, 
Roland was brought up with a start by 
the realization that he had not once 
thought of Miss Barrington. He rather 



86 


Roland of Altenburg 


reproached himself. It seemed like 
treason. But now that she had come 
back, he was face to face with the neces- 
sity of deciding whether or not he should 
attempt to see her again. He knew that 
in all probability he would not be ad- 
mitted, and he hated to submit again to 
so petty a humiliation. Yet if he should 
see her — his imagination carried him far 
afield. He was afraid to trust himself. 
He did not know where a farewell to her 
might lead him. In his dreaming he had 
turned away from his desk to look out at 
the sky. Suddenly he rose, walked over 
to the Colonel and put his hand rather 
shyly on the older man’s shoulder. 
“What would you do, Karl?” he asked, 
and told him his dilemma. “I can’t leave 
without letting her know that I am not 
an impostor.” 

“Send a note, then,” von Meyer sug- 
gested. 

“But I could write a volume.” 

The Colonel was suddenly seized with 
an idea. “I will be your ambassador. 


A Diplomatic Mission 


87 


Entrust me with your dispatches and 
they shall be faithfully delivered.” 

“But they wouldn’t admit you,” Roland 
exclaimed. 

“Why not? The servants never saw 
me, and she would not remember me. 
There is no other way. I shall go.” 

“But, Karl,” Roland pleaded, “don’t you 
think there is a chance that I could see 
her?” 

But the Colonel, ingenuous as he 
seemed, was wary. There was some- 
thing a little too serious about this affair. 
He felt that it had gone far enough. 
“There isn’t a chance,” he answered. 
“Her father has given his orders, you 
may be sure. They have refused once, 
you know, to admit you.” He looked up 
at Roland affectionately. “It is hard, my 
boy, but you can’t do it. It would not do 
to put yourself in the position of submit- 
ting again to such impertinence. Any- 
thing might happen. You might be 
gravely affronted. And you could not 
answer it as another man might. Re- 


88 


Roland of Altenburg 


member, Roland, within a few days the 
eyes of the world may be upon you.” 

“You are right, Karl, you are always 
right,” he admitted, but there was a 
break in his voice. “It’s the walls of the 
prison again. I never get far away from 
it. How could I live, Karl, if it were not 
for you?” Something in his voice went 
to the Colonel’s heart. 

“Don’t take it that way, my boy,” he 
said. “The new responsibilities will 
make it all different. Be a man and 
face it.” 

“I know, I know,” the young Prince 
answered. “I’ll do it when the time 
arrives. But now — you must give me a 
moment. Your plan is the best, Karl, I 
can see. Tell her as little as possible, but 
make it plain that I am not an adventurer. 
She doesn’t believe that anyway,” he 
burst out. “I know her better than that.” 

The Colonel rose to the command and 
left him. Roland stood silent for a mo- 
ment after he had gone. Then he 
clenched his fist and said as though the 


A Diplomatic Mission 


89 


words were jerked from him, “What a 
beast of a world it is anyway!” 

It was an hour later when he roused 
himself, rose from where he had been sit- 
ting motionless — his arms folded upon 
the table, his forehead in the bend of his 
elbow — walked over to the desk and 
looked over some letters that he had 
neglected in the morning. Time slipped 
away and it grew dark. He began to 
wonder what was keeping Karl. He 
even had time to become uneasy before 
the door flew open and the Colonel him- 
self appeared. It was a changed and 
dejected Colonel, however, who slowly 
entered. 

“My God, Karl,” Roland exclaimed in 
alarm, “what has happened to you?” 

Von Meyer sank exhausted into a chair, 
saying cheerlessly, “I have failed, my boy, 
utterly failed. I deserve to be court- 
martialed and disgraced. Never again 
will I try diplomacy. I was made 
wrong.” 

Roland found it hard to conceal his im- 


90 


Roland of Altenburg 


patience. “What do you mean, Karl? 
What can you have done?” 

“At first everything went well,” he 
answered. “She was at home and I sent 
up my card. I was shown into a long 
room to wait. It was only a minute that 
I sat there when that damned blackguard, 
Lockwood, came in. I knew him at once. 
He looked the part.” He broke into 
expletives, half German, half English, 
but entirely emphatic. 

“Are you crazy?” asked Roland. “In 
God’s name, what is the matter with you?” 

The Prince’s sternness brought the 
Colonel to reason. He rose from the 
sofa on which he had thrown himself, and 
seated himself in a straight-backed chair. 
The narrative was continued more 
calmly. “Well, h.e came in. You know 
his manner. He said to me, ‘You have 
business with Miss Barrington?’ I told 
him politely that I had. Then he asked 
me if I was not your friend.” 

“He has looked me up pretty thor- 
oughly,” interjected Roland. 


A Diplomatic Mission 


9 1 


“He accused you of being afraid to 
come yourself, and I had hard work to 
keep my temper. He was abusive and I 
grew tired of it at last. ‘I wish to see 
Miss Barrington,’ I told him. ‘I asked 
only for her.’ Then he became angry 
and said she was not at home and would 
not see me if she were. I answered as 
quietly as I could that I would wait 
and submit the matter to her judgment. 
Then he told me that I was impertinent 
and ordered me out of the house. I shall 
not flatter him by repeating what he said.” 

“Tell the whole story,” demanded Ro- 
land, and the Colonel continued re- 
luctantly: 

“He said, ‘Go, and if you two black- 
guards ever come here again, I shall call 
the police.’ It was more than I could 
stand, to hear you called a blackguard. I 
am ashamed of myself, but I confess that 
I struck him. No man can say a thing 
like that about you.” 

“Go on,” said Roland impatiently. 
“What did he do?” 


9 2 


Roland of Altenburg 


“He started back and I thought he was 
going to strike out at me. But just then 
there was a flutter in the hall and she 
came in — an angel — ach, what loveliness!” 

The Prince took a turn or two across 
the floor. “What next?” he said. 

“She was tall and very scornful.” The 
Colonel rose and drew himself up in 
grotesque imitation of Miss Barrington. 
“ ‘Gentlemen!’ she said very quick and 
sharp, and we both looked ashamed. She 
had my card in her hand and she looked 
at it as if she did not like it. When she 
turned to me she said some high and 
mighty words which meant that she 
thought me an impostor and a black- 
guard.” 

“She had seen you strike Lockwood?” 
interjected Roland. 

“To be sure she had,” the Colonel sput- 
tered, “and she does not know enough 
about that damned coward to know he 
deserved it. She told me very politely 
that she had not the honor of my 
acquaintance. She said I had not acted 


A Diplomatic Mission 


93 


like a gentleman in coming to her house 
without an invitation and attacking her 
friend. She must beg me to withdraw, 
she said.” 

“But, Karl,” broke in the Prince, “what 
were you doing all this time? Didn’t you 
tell her why you had come?” 

“I tried to, but somehow it didn’t go. 
I said I had come as your representative 
with a message from you. Then Lock- 
wood broke in.” He grew heated again. 
“He had stood there like an idiot, letting 
the girl defend him. But when I men- 
tioned you he could not keep still. He 
tried to be dignified and said, ‘Miss Bar- 
rington does not care to receive messages 
from Mr. Scott.’ My God, I could have 
murdered him!” 

“But what did she say?” the Prince 
asked eagerly. 

“She said nothing at all. I told her 
that my mission was important and was 
with herself alone. But she let him 
answer for her.” 

Roland winced. Yet the Colonel went 


94 


Roland of Altenburg 


on remorselessly. “He said that no mes- 
sage I could bring would be important to 
Miss Barrington. Then he rang the bell 
and told the footman to show me out.” 

The Prince jumped up and walked over 
to the long table. As the silence con- 
tinued, he turned and said sharply, “Do 
you mean to say that was all? Did you 
go away like that?” 

“What was there to do?” the Colonel 
answered, somewhat ruffled. “Would 
you have me force your confidences upon 
a lady who did not care to hear them? 
As a matter of fact, I did make another 
effort. I turned my back on him and 
said to her, ‘The message I bring, madam, 
you will be glad to hear. Some day you 
will regret it if you do not listen to me.’ ” 

“And what did she say?” Roland broke 
in. 

“She wavered, I thought, until she 
looked at Lockwood. Then she said in 
a low voice, ‘I am sorry, but after what 
has happened I cannot talk to you.’ I 
thought she was going to say more, but 


A Diplomatic Mission 


95 


that coward joined her and she stopped. 
I bowed and left them together.” 

Roland threw back his head as though 
he had been struck. “Oh, Karl, Karl,” 
he said, “how blind I have been! It was 
all a game with her after all. She found 
me amusing, but she never really cared.” 

There was something in his face that 
the Colonel did not like. “Don’t say 
that,” he said. “It was my fault. I 
bungled it.” 

“No, it was not you, Karl.” Roland 
was sure now. “You were right — you 
could not have done anything else.” He 
was silent a moment and then he broke 
into a gayety that was worse than tears. 
“Well, we’ll go back to prison, Karl, to- 
morrow. Then We shall have something 
to think of. We can design costumes for 
the court balls and decide upon questions 
of precedence. It’s an exciting life we’ll 
lead there, Karl.” His voice broke. 
“Let’s go back to it.” 



On the Throne 


97 


IX 


On the Throne 


HREE months had passed. Roland 
had become the reigning Prince 
of Altenburg in stern reality. Lud- 
wig lived only long enough to wel- 
come his nephew and solemnly entrust to 
him his honors and his responsibilities. 
Touched by the interview and by his 
death, which quickly followed, Roland 
was disposed to take the cares of his 
position very seriously. The gravity of 
the new duties weighed upon him. They 
lined his face and put into his eyes a 
brooding sense of care. It seemed no 
light thing to assume the government, 
to take his place among men older 
than he and weighted with experience. 
He might have followed the easy course 
and allowed his uncle’s ministers to 
manage things, but his own theory of 
duty was alien to this and he had 




98 


Roland of Altenburg 


observed and thought. He determined 
that the world — his world — should be a 
little different because he had been 
born — a little happier, he hoped. 

It was almost immediately after his 
uncle’s death that Roland astonished his 
cabinet by taking control. The prime 
minister, von Becker, remonstrated that 
the task was heavy for him; the others 
were obviously disconcerted. There 
were ominous mutterings of disapproval. 
But Roland stood his ground, insisting 
that if he wore the honors, he must also 
carry the burden. Realizing the delicacy 
of his position, he discovered in him- 
self unexpected resources of diplomacy. 
The strong men of the principality must 
not be antagonized. To make them feel 
his control without regretting it was no 
simple task. It called out his best ener- 
gies and rewarded them. He began to 
make friends; he gained the respect of 
his cabinet, the admiration of the court. 
It meant labor, but at the moment labor 
was what he needed. For a task like this 


On the Throne 


99 


his mind must be kept on the alert, and 
when he found it wandering, he would 
take to solitude in his den or go off for a 
long ride with von Meyer in the open. 
With the Colonel he became a boy again. 
With him there were no reserves, no cir- 
cumlocutions. He alone was certain not 
to misinterpret his talk and his silences. 
With him there was a sense of freedom 
which brought back the old days, the old 
exhilarating freedom. 

They laughed often about the journey 
to America; but in their talk Katherine 
Barrington’s name was never mentioned. 
Yet, though von Meyer tried to think 
that Roland had forgotten, it was always 
present in the pauses. His eyes had a 
strange look in them now and then, and 
the Colonel would find himself suddenly, 
in the middle of a sentence, talking to 
empty air while the Prince galloped on 
ahead, or to an abstraction that was im- 
possible to break. Roland had fought 
hard to forget, but there were moments 
when the thought of the girl crowded 


L.ofC. 


IOO 


Roland of Altenburg 


everything else from his mind and left 
him homesick and rebellious. He would 
chide himself with the reminder that she 
had played with him and thrown him 
over. He tried not to forget that she 
had treated his friend with an insulting 
indifference. But in spite of it all the 
memory of her smile, of the look in her 
eyes, would have its way. 

It was on a day when he was particu- 
larly filled with it and could not shake off 
the melancholy that was always its com- 
panion, that he was interrupted by his 
secretary, who announced that Count von 
Becker, the prime minister, requested an 
audience. It was reluctantly granted and 
began with some needless discussion of 
matters of detail. Roland felt that some- 
thing more important was in the air, and 
when it finally came, it brought him up 
with a start. 

“Your royal highness has been singu- 
larly successful,” von Becker was saying, 
“in securing the affection of the people. 
I confess that when your royal highness 


On the Throne 


IOI 


came to the throne, I was apprehensive 
of a different result. The mysterious jour- 
ney had been unpopular, and during the 
minority your royal highness had held 
himself so aloof from the people ” 

“Aloof!” broke in the Prince angrily, 
“do you suppose I wanted to keep away 
from them?” 

“Not at all, not at all,” answered the 
minister suavely, “but circumstances pre- 
vented the companionship your royal 
highness doubtless desired. The masses, 
however, do not understand these bar- 
riers and I feared that there might be 
some temporary antagonism — merely tem- 
porary, of course, but difficult to handle. 
I am delighted to see that your royal 
highness has overcome it completely. The 
coronation ceremonies were designed with 
singular tact in this respect. They had 
the effect of bringing the personality of 
your royal highness into the humblest 
household. It was a most unusual conde- 
scension on the part of a reigning Prince.” 

“Yes, yes, Count,” Roland interrupted, 


102 


Roland of Altenburg 


knowing well that it was just this attitude 
that von Becker had emphatically disap- 
proved, “I hope you will not forget that 
I am made of exactly the same clay as all 
the others.” 

“Your royal highness is too generous,” 
the minister obsequiously assured him, 
“but perhaps this condescension” — how 
Roland hated the word! — “has been re- 
warded. Yet one more effort is necessary 
to cement this popularity, to make it un- 
alterably yours.” He hesitated. “The 
people desire of all things to see a princess 
upon your throne. You will pardon what 
may seem presumption, Sire,” von Becker 
continued, “but my colleagues and I, 
whom your royal highness has honored 
by calling your counselors, have talked 
much about — the ” 

“About the advisability of marriage?” 
interrupted Roland, startled and alert. 
He rose suddenly, with the military in- 
stinct to take a blow standing, walked 
with erect precision to the window, and 
looked out over the castle garden, seeing 


On the Throne 


103 


nothing. It was von Becker who broke 
the silence. 

“Your counselors, Sire, and your peo- 
ple as well, believe that the alliance 
would ” 

But Roland could not endure these 
arguments. He turned sharply to von 
Becker. “You doubtless refer to the 
Princess Theresa. There is plenty of 
time to think of matrimony, Count. Let 
us talk of something else.” 

But the minister was not to be put off 
so easily. “I need not point out your 
duty, Sire,” he said. “But I can tell the 
wishes of your people better than your 
royal highness. Believe me, Sire, they 
demand it.” 

The Prince restrained his anger with 
some difficulty. “I have had enough of 
this, von Becker,” he said quietly. The 
Count began to protest, but Roland cut 
him off. “I expect to do what is best for 
my country and my people. But I must 
have time.” 

The minister withdrew, somewhat crest- 


104 


Roland of Altenburg 


fallen, and Roland gave orders that he 
should not be again interrupted. He 
had seen the Princess for the first time 
since their betrothal at the coronation 
and had found her charming. She had 
played an important part in the cere- 
monies, and her prominence was evi- 
dently popular. In the eyes of the world 
they were a happy pair of young lovers, 
but they never found themselves alone 
without a certain embarrassment. Not 
once did they speak of the betrothal or 
look into the future. Roland had always 
considered it a far-away matter, and it 
was disconcerting to be confronted with 
it at this moment. Yet the marriage, 
with its assurance of peace and harmony, 
would be a signal for rejoicing. It would 
go far toward adjusting the dispute about 
the boundary line in a district where 
coal had recently been discovered, and 
this was a difficulty which threatened to 
become ominous. If it could not be 
adjusted by the joint commission, which 
was proving itself a quarrelsome body, it 


On the Throne 


105 


might lead to much unpleasantness. A 
marriage with Theresa would smooth 
these things down. But he could not 
face it. He knew in his heart what he 
would finally do, but he felt that he must 
have a brief respite; he must have time 
to pull himself together. 

An hour later the lord chamberlain 
was admitted to submit a list of those 
who were to be presented at the first of 
Roland’s “drawing-rooms.” The Prince 
roused himself and glanced carelessly 
over the names, expecting to approve the 
list without a question. But he was 
startled to find upon it the name “Mr. 
Stanley Lockwood, presented by the 
minister from the United States.” 

“Who is this gentleman?” he asked, not 
quite calmly. 

“He begs to be presented through his 
excellency the American Minister,” the 
lord chamberlain answered. “He comes 
from New York and is stopping at the 
Grand Hotel.” 

“Very well. You may leave the list. 


io6 


Roland of Altenburg 


Kindly ask Colonel von Meyer to attend 
me here.” 

The Colonel kept him waiting much 
too long for Roland’s impatience. There 
was a boyish excitement in his manner 
when the door finally opened. “Karl,” 
he said, eager and radiant, “I have a 
piece of news that may interest you. 
Who do you think wishes to be presented 
at the drawing-room?” 

A light shone in the eyes of the old 
officer. Only Miss Barrington, he 
thought, could call out that expression, 
but her name was best left unspoken. 
He shook his head. 

“The person who craves the honor of 
making obeisance to us,” said Roland, “is 
the gentleman who once in New York 
had the satisfaction of turning you out of 
doors.” 

Von Meyer’s smile changed to a savage 
frown. “The devil!” he exclaimed. Then 
recovering himself, he added, “I beg your 
pardon, but we fight then.” 

“You will do nothing of the kind.” 


On the Throne 


107 


Roland smiled. “On the contrary,” he 
said, “he shall be presented. How 
charmed he will be when he recognizes 
his old friend Scott!” 

Then the Prince had a thought and 
again he scanned the list eagerly. Mr. 
Lockwood and two ladies from Des 
Moines were the only names offered by 
the American Minister, and Roland felt 
unaccountably relieved. “You must find 
out about Lockwood. He may not be 
alone,” he said. “And you must do it 
quietly. Really, I am half afraid to trust 
you.” 

The Colonel laughed. “You may trust 
me,” he said seriously after a moment, 
“to the end.” Then he laughed again. 
“I go quietly now, but later I may petition 
your royal highness to let me fight him 
just once.” 

“What a little world this is!” Roland 
mused after his friend had gone. “I sup- 
posed I had left him behind forever. 

And it would be queerer still if ” The 

Prince paused and stood for a long time 


io8 


Roland of Altenburg 


gazing absently from the window over 
the town of Oberholtz, lying beneath him. 
Beyond the city was a stretch of blood- 
red ice, colored by the dying sun. But 
Roland saw neither the spires of the city 
nor the splendor of the bay, with the 
snow-laden mountains beyond. There 
was a smile in his eyes. He was looking 
down into the laughing face of a care- 
free American girl. He saw her still 
as he had last seen her in New York. 
He saw her as he had seen her every 
day during those weeks and months 
of separation. Everything was forgot- 
ten — honors and difficulties, misunder- 
standings and evasions, everything except 
that Miss Barrington might be in the 
very city at his feet. 

The sun sank behind the mountains, 
and the quick darkness settled over Ober- 
holtz. The castle, high on a rocky cliff, 
caught the sunlight longer than the val- 
ley, but the ancient turreted building, 
like the town, was speedily overshadowed 
by night. Yet Roland waited immovable, 


On the Throne 


109 


watching the lights in the valley and the 
stars in the sky as they came out, and 
thinking of many things. 

Late that night, working alone in his 
study, the Prince received a visit from 
Colonel von Meyer. He felt a sudden 
tightening of the heart at the coming of 
his friend. “Well, Karl,” he said, affect- 
ing rather badly a passive interest, “what 
did you discover? Is Lockwood alone?” 

“Not alone,” exclaimed the Colonel 
with suppressed excitement. “There are 
ladies in the party.” 

“Who are they?” exclaimed the Prince, 
forgetting his languor and starting up. 

“There is an elderly lady in the party,” 
continued von Meyer, with exasperating 
deliberation. 

“And no one else?” asked Roland, with 
a depressed droop in his voice. “Come, 
Karl, don’t be hard on me.” 

“I am afraid the cruelty,” the Colonel 
said seriously, “is in telling you that Miss 
Barrington is here.” 

“And she is still Miss Barrington?” 


no 


Roland of Altenburg 


“Yes. A Miss Rand is with her. The 
other, I am given to understand, is an 
aunt who travels in the capacity of 
chaperon. They arrived to-day.” 

“Did you see her — them, I mean?” 
asked Roland. 

“No, they were in their rooms. Lock- 
wood leaves to-morrow for Geneva, and 
the others will await his return here.” 

“Thank you, Karl,” Roland said. “You 
may leave me now.” 

The old soldier turned at the door and 
looked at the Prince, but he knew better 
than to give advice. “Be careful, son,” 
he said simply. “You need the courage 
of a soldier.” 

After he had gone Roland sat for a 
time in deepest reverie, the stillness of 
the castle broken only by the ticking of 
the clock on the onyx mantelpiece and 
by the occasional sputtering of the wood 
fire, now burned almost to glowing em- 
bers on the hearth. The state papers lay 
untouched on the table where they had 
fallen when the Colonel entered. 


On the Throne 


1 1 1 


As the clock struck two, Roland rose 
and left the apartment by a private door. 
Passing through a secluded passageway, 
he ascended a flight of stairs to his dress- 
ing-room. There he selected a fur cap 
and a greatcoat with a heavy cape. “You 
may retire, Hugo,” he said to the sleepy 
valet who had been awaiting him. “I am 
going to take a turn about the cliff.” 

Hugo bowed. He was too well accus- 
tomed to the nocturnal eccentricities of 
the young Prince to be surprised. 

Roland made his way out of the castle, 
going by devious passages and encounter- 
ing several sentries, whom he passed with 
a word. The night was cold but clear. 
It vaguely revealed a scene of rich, mys- 
terious beauty. Roland was not unre- 
sponsive to its appeal, but it did not make 
him pause. He walked briskly down the 
road for a mile or more, until he found 
himself opposite a huge, irregular stone 
building, standing on the edge of the 
precipitous cliff, with the frozen waters 
of the lake hundreds of feet below. This 


I 12 


Roland of Altenburg 


was the Grand Hotel. It had once been 
a great chateau, the home of a noble fam- 
ily for many generations. But recently 
the main branch had become extinct, 
and the heirs, too poor to maintain the 
castle, sold it to the hotel management. 
In summer it was filled with travelers 
from Germany, France and Russia, for 
whom its traditions and its wild and 
daring site gave it a romantic charm. In 
winter it usually held few guests, for 
there were not many to venture into the 
snow-locked mountains of Altenburg. 

Opposite the hotel the Prince paused, 
and gazed in silence at the frowning, 
shadowy structure, dimly outlined in the 
starlight. A single window of all the 
great building showed a light and set 
Roland wondering. 


At the Grand Hotel 


“3 


X 

At the Grand Hotel 

EFORE retiring that night, Roland 
took from his desk a crumpled 
little note — the one Miss Barring- 
ton had sent him in New York 
— and looked at it long and tenderly. 
He spent the night between sleeping 
and waking, in a futile endeavor to per- 
suade himself that he was much too an- 
gry with her to make any effort to see 
her. He told himself many times that in 
refusing to listen to von Meyer she had 
refused to listen to him. An affront to 
one was an affront to both. He repeated 
over and over again that he was the merest 
passing shadow in her life — like many 
another, unheeded and unremembered. 
“By this time,” he thought, “I am forgot- 
ten.” And he said it again for greater 
emphasis, though he could not quite 
believe it. It was like condoning an 




1 14 Roland of Altenburg 


insult to approach her, he knew.; yet all 
the arguments he could bring to bear had 
no effect upon the hunger in his heart. 
He ended, as he began, with the feeling 
that he could not let her go. 

It was early when he rang for Hugo, 
and after his coffee he went into his den 
to write Miss Barrington a note. He 
had some trouble in finding paper with- 
out crest or coronet, and when it was 
finally found, the task that had seemed 
so simple became hedged round with 
difficulties. He wrote three notes and 
tore them up, and even the fourth, which 
he finally sent, had more sentiment in it 
than he liked. It read, 

“Dear Miss Barrington: I hope I am 
not giving your memory too heavy a task 
in asking permission to see you. If you 
still carry in your mind even a fleeting 
impression of a ride in the park, which is 
vivid in mine, if you are still generous to 
a stranger, you will give me an oppor- 
tunity to tell you how sharply I resented 


At the Grand Hotel 


1J 5 


your indifference to my friend and how 
easily I forgave it. New York is far 
away and you are here. 

“Very sincerely yours, 

“Donald Scott. 

“Thursday.” 

The note gave no address, but the 
bearer was carefully instructed to wait 
for an answer. The delay seemed end- 
less, but it was finally brought to him 
during a cabinet meeting. He glanced 
at the outside of it and hid it hurriedly in 
his pocket. Nothing would have in- 
duced him to rea:d it with these curious 
eyes upon him. To avoid an appearance 
of restlessness he put an extra delibera- 
tion into his instructions and comments, 
but it was necessary to keep a tight hold 
upon his mind to prevent it from wander- 
ing. When he was finally released, he 
felt like a boy on a holiday. In his den 
he looked at the envelope hungrily a 
moment before he opened it. When he 
did so he found a very simple little note, 
which said that Miss Barrington would be 


Roland of Altenburg 


ii 6 


glad to see him at nine o’clock. She was 
to be out, she added, in the afternoon. 
It disappointed him a little, but it delight- 
ed him, too. 

The delay was hard to endure, but the 
only relief he allowed himself was when 
he sent for von Meyer and told him 
about it. Down underneath, the Colonel 
was very anxious, but he covered it up 
with a genial sympathy. Yet he expressed 
some fear that Miss Barrington would 
recognize him from photographs in the 
shops. 

“There are only those childish things,” 
Roland exclaimed. “You forget that for 
some time I have been avoiding photog- 
raphers.” 

“At the risk of getting yourself dis- 
liked,” retorted the Colonel. “I remem- 
ber your obstinacy.” 

It was a little before nine when the 
Prince of Altenburg left the castle by a 
side entrance and alone. He was so 
heavily muffled in a cloak that little was 
visible except his eyes. The night was 


At the Grand Hotel 


117 


propitious for the enterprise, for there 
was no moon to make his muffled figure 
conspicuous. So keen a wind was blow- 
ing that hardly any one was on the road 
leading to. the Grand Hotel. Once at the 
hotel, Roland avoided the office and sent 
up his card by an attendant, who did not 
suspect the royal visitor. It seemed an 
age before he was conducted to a little 
drawing-room on the first floor. There 
he found Miss Barrington; but he felt a 
sharp sense of disappointment when she 
took his hand quite simply and said, “It 
is very good to see you again, Mr. 
Scott.” 

There was nothing in the speech, but 
Roland fancied he discovered behind her 
eyes something more than her smile of 
amusement would indicate. She seemed 
to be still trying to analyze this extraor- 
dinary person who had a talent for doing 
what he liked. 

“I hardly knew,” Roland began with a 
touch of pride, “how I would be received. 
In New York I had the honor of sending 


1 1 8 


Roland of Altenburg 


my friend to you with a message. You 
refused to listen to it.” 

They were still standing and Miss Bar- 
rington drew herself up with a hauteur so 
bewitching that Roland found it hard to 
remember her offense. 

“You chose a strange advocate, Mr. 
Scott,” she said. “If you have heard the 
whole story of that interview, you will 
understand that I could do nothing else.” 

“But he was my friend,” he insisted. 
“You knew he was my friend.” 

“Yes, I knew it,” she answered, and 
looked at him as no one had ever quite 
looked at him before. “But he was not 
you. Please don’t let us talk of that, 
Mr. Scott. It is so long since I have seen 
you. It was insufferable, I know, but you 
will forgive me. You have forgiven me 
or you would not be here.” 

He laughed as they sat down, and he 
said slowly, his eyes upon hers, “You 
have not changed.” 

“But you have,” she answered lightly, 
in some curiosity. “I don’t know what it 


At the Grand Hotel 


119 


is, but there is something about you that 

is different. You have a look of ” 

She hesitated for a word. “Well, I can 
see that you have a way of getting what 
you want. There is about you,” and she 
waved a fluttering hand, “an air of com- 
mand. It makes me feel very insignifi- 
cant indeed.” 

Roland laughed, but he did not quite 
like it. “You conceal it well,” he ex- 
claimed. “You put up a brave front. 
But now that you speak of it, I may as 
well confess that with me it is all a man- 
ner. I was trained in a hard school, and 
that is all I brought out of it. I look as 
though I had my own way to hide the 
fact that I never get it.” 

“Well, why isn’t it better not to get it?” 
she exclaimed. “I have had my own way 
all my life, and it grows monotonous. I 
always repent, too, after I get it. It 
dawns upon me that the other way was 
really the best. And that feeling is des- 
perately uncomfortable.” 

“Really?” said Roland questioningly. 


120 


Roland of Altenburg 


“I don’t know what it is. I have had so 
little experience of having my own way.” 

“You!” she exclaimed scornfully. “I 
believe you would not recognize opposi- 
tion if you should meet it in the street. 
You don’t know what it is. One can see 
that in your face. You, too, must find it 
monotonous.” 

“Monotonous!” It broke from him and 
the sincerity of it was evident. “It was 
deadly until that day in New York. You 
cannot think how impossible it seemed. 
Outwardly my life has been smooth 
enough, as you say. I have been given 
the conventional things that I was sup- 
posed to want. But within I have raged, 
I have fumed, I have been almost desper- 
ate for the want of one little hour that 
was my own.” His voice had grown 
tense, and it came from his heart. 

A startled look in the girl’s eyes sud- 
denly recalled him to himself. “I don’t 
know why I talk to you in this way. 
There is something in you that drags it 
out of me. I have never before made a 


At the Grand Hotel 


I 2 I 


confidante of a woman,” he added with a 
laugh, “and the men wouldn’t listen even 
if I cared to have them.” 

She smiled, and he felt that no other 
pardon was necessary. But the smile, 
wonderful as it was, did not quite take 
from her eyes the look of bewilderment. 

“Why do you come to Altenburg if 
you want freedom?” she asked after a 
moment. 

Roland pulled himself together. “It is 
my home — my work is here,” he said 
carefully. 

“I didn’t know any one worked here,” 
Miss Barrington protested. “This toy 
principality seems too busy with its poli- 
tics and intrigues to encourage work. 
Doesn’t it all seem foolish to you after 
New York, where they are really trying 
to do things? Here they imitate even 
the smallest conventionalities of the great 
world and play the game as pompously as 
though it were worth while. Even your 
little princeling pretends to be a mighty 
potentate.” 


122 


Roland of Altenburg 


She was so graceful in her irony, she 
took the sting out of it so delicately with 
her eyes that Roland could only laugh. 
“Oh, don’t be so hard upon him,” he 
laughed. “He would like to do better.” 

“Why doesn’t he try, then? In Felzen- 
bruck they know exactly what he ought 
to do.” 

“Felzenbruck!” exclaimed Roland. 
“Have you been there?” 

“We have just come from the capital. 
There was a great deal of talk about the 
boundary dispute.” 

“What did they say of it?” For the 
moment even Miss Barrington was for- 
gotten. 

“Oh, you must know,” she answered. 
“They were very sure that there would 
be serious trouble, even war perhaps, 
between the two countries if it were not 
for the alliance between Prince Roland 
and the Princess Theresa. Isn’t it a 
delightfully romantic way out of the 
difficulty?” 

Roland looked at her moodily. “Yes, 


At the Grand Hotel 


123 


it is highly romantic,” he said. But he 
did not laugh. 

“It was common talk in Felzenbruck 
that Prince Friedrich had set his heart 
upon it. How does the young Prince 
feel? He will surely marry her, will he 
not?” 

“He is very human, Miss Barrington,” 
Roland answered gravely. He rose and 
stood quietly before her. “Such a mar- 
riage may be a good thing for the country 
and it may not. But he is young and 
hot-blooded and he has a longing to live 
his own life.” 

There was something intangibly melan- 
choly in his voice and in his eyes. Miss 
Barrington was vaguely touched as she 
looked up at him. 

“You plead his cause well,” she said 
softly. “It would be easy to believe that 
he had told you his story.” 

Roland forced a laugh. “I have 
watched him and I know a little about 
men,” he said. 

As he stood looking down upon her, 


124 


Roland of Altenburg 


drinking in her delicate distinction, he 
was interrupted by the entrance of her 
aunt, Mrs. Gerard. He lingered a little 
to speak to her, and Miss Barrington men- 
tioned Lockwood’s intention to be pre- 
sented at the next drawing-room. She 
herself, she added, had cared very little 
for the ceremony, though she was curious 
to see the castle. Roland found that 
they had planned to visit the next day 
the part of it that was open to the 
public. 

“You will let me arrange things,” he 
said, “so that you may see it all. The 
oldest, and best parts of the place are 
only open to visitors, when the Prince is 
in residence, by his special permission.” 

They thanked him and he said good- 
night. He said it in commonplace words, 
but the real good-night lay in his eyes. 
He went out wondering what he could 
ever do to make himself remembered by 
such a woman. He felt impotent. He 
was sure that he had said the wrong 
things and done the illogical ones. She 


At the Grand Hotel 


125 


could not possibly think of him with any 
respect. 

Plunged in gloom as deep as the night 
and muffled to the eyes, he was proceed- 
ing as rapidly as the gale would allow 
when some instinct moved him to look 
back over the lonely stretch of road he 
had just traversed. Was it fancy, or did 
he see there in the shadow of the cliff the 
figure of a man? The thought that he 
was followed sent an angry flush to his 
cheek. To make sure he was not mis- 
taken, he again faced the gale, but re- 
duced his speed for some minutes. Then 
turning suddenly, he saw a dark shadowy 
outline about a hundred yards behind. 
The night was too black to distinguish 
anything beyond the mere fact of a pres- 
ence — a human presence — in the road. 
Roland felt instinctively that the man 
was trailing him. To make certain, he 
walked quickly toward him, taking out a 
revolver as he went. 

For a moment the figure in the road 
seemed to remain stationary. Then real- 


126 


Roland of Altenburg 


izing that his presence had been discov- 
ered, the man ran quickly away. Roland 
gave chase for a short distance, but, ham- 
pered as he was, he was soon out-dis- 
tanced by the fugitive, who vanished into 
the darkness that hung over the cliff. 
Roland stood still for a few minutes in 
uncertainty. Then realizing the futility 
of searching for a marauder amid the 
intricacies of the rocky cliff, he turned 
once more toward the entrance of the 
frowning castle. 


In Gastle Rheinwald 


127 


XI 

In Castle Rheinwald 

S SOON as Prince Roland had 
breakfasted the next morning, he 
summoned one of his gentlemen- 
in-waiting and said to him, “Cap- 
tain Kreuger, I am informed that three 
American ladies will visit the castle to-day. 
It is my wish that they be shown special 
courtesy and taken to every point of in- 
terest, particularly to the high tower and 
to the dungeons. Give them access to. all 
parts of the castle except my private 
study, where I shall be engaged.” 

The Prince gave some further direc- 
tions for the pleasure of his expected 
guests, and Captain Kreuger retired, 
secretly astonished, as such a command 
had never been given him before. Half 
an hour later the officer was again sum- 
moned before his royal highness. 

“In passing through the north gallery,” 




128 


Roland of Altenburg 


said Roland, “I observe that the portrait 
of myself, which was painted just before 
I left Altenburg, is in need of reframing. 
You will have it removed at once.” 

Captain Kreuger bowed and withdrew, 
wondering why his royal highness was 
so notional. He was sure that the por- 
trait was not as much in need of refram- 
ing as half the pictures in the gallery. 
Yet there was nothing to do but obey 
orders. 

The portrait was too easily recognized 
as Donald Scott to be allowed to retain 
the place of honor in the gallery while 
this friend, who must not know the Prince, 
went through it. Roland was thankful 
that he had remembered it in time. For 
almost an hour he found himself standing 
before a window to watch the road that 
wound up the cliff to the castle. Occa- 
sionally he grew impatient with himself 
and tried to take up his work. But it 
would not go. The window was too 
powerful a magnet. When at last he saw 
Miss Barrington and the others alight 


In Castle Rheinwald 


129 


from their carriage and enter at the 
visitor’s door, it was hard to refrain from 
going down to welcome them. He paced 
the floor of the turret-room for a time, 
unable to quiet the beating of his heart. 
It seemed too unreal, too visionary a con- 
summation of his dreams, that she at last 
should be in his own land — his own 
home — wandering through the familiar 
halls, and touching as she passed the 
tapestries that had supplied his childhood 
with hobgoblins. He let his fancy travel 
over the old castle, illuminated now with 
her presence. Yet it was a disappointing 
dream after all. He could not see her. 
He could not have a share in her gayety. 
It was humiliating to feel that he was 
only a spy, watching from afar, taking the 
little that he had no right to receive. It 
made him desperate — this separation. It 
seemed too cruel, too unnecessary. For 
a moment he rebelled against a fate 
which imprisoned him. Suddenly a wild 
desire rushed over him to force her to 
think of him, to make her suffer as he 


i3° 


Roland of Altenburg 


was suffering. He could not endure the 
thought of her indifference. 

Acting upon an impulse, he left his study, 
and proceeding with some caution lest 
he encounter the visitors on the way, re- 
paired to the round tower of the castle. 
This tower rose high and imposing above 
the smaller turrets and commanded a 
beautiful view of the grounds and the 
surrounding country. He had not long 
to wait. Discreetly hidden by the dra- 
pery at the window, he saw Miss Barring- 
ton emerge upon the top of a tower, 
followed by Miss Rand, Mrs. Gerard and 
the guide, in whom the Prince was aston- 
ished to discover the wily Colonel. 

“The rascal,” thought Roland, filled with 
jealousy that the Colonel should have the 
delight of showing Miss Barrington the 
castle, while the master of the place feared 
to show his head. He wondered if von 
Meyer had not been recognized until he re- 
membered that during the American jour- 
ney the Colonel had sacrificed his beard. 

The little party, however, was ignorant 


In Castle Rheinwald 


I 3 I 


of the Prince’s wrath and proceeded on its 
way, its gallant leader bubbling with hap- 
piness. At intervals Roland could see 
them, and then there was a half-hour — 
ages it seemed to him — when they were 
invisible. He had almost persuaded 
himself that they had gone without en- 
during the fatigue of the climb up the 
round tower, when he heard them 
ascending the winding stairway. Roland 
was prepared for this emergency. With 
the door of the apartment partly ajar, he 
stood listening as they slowly approached, 
often pausing to rest, to look out of a win- 
dow upon the valley, or to inspect the 
curious apartments of the ancient tower. 
Roland could hear their exclamations of 
surprise and feel their wondering silences. 
He was glad Miss Barrington said little. 
He had associations of his own with the 
old tower that made every stone in it 
sacred to him. 

The Colonel described with great 
volubility the interesting points, interpo- 
lating compliments with much gallantry. 


i3 2 


Roland of Altenburg 


The talk revived Roland’s unhappiness, 
and the impulse to go down and meet 
them was almost uncontrollable. He had 
a longing to put the Colonel out of serv- 
ice and proclaim himself master. He felt 
a boyish desire to show her his power. 
But his self-control had been too well de- 
veloped for the overthrow of reason, and 
as the party was about to enter the cham- 
ber, Roland slipped out on the opposite 
side, descended a few steps and laid his 
hands on a door that led to a steep, ladder- 
like stairway, once a secret passage. It 
was the Prince’s intention to elude his vis- 
itors in this way, but to his dismay the 
door was locked. Not since the begin- 
ning of this reign, when he had opened the 
round tower to visitors, had this door 
been fastened. 

In vain did he push and pull and utter 
imprecations under his breath. The 
massive oaken door was immovable. 
Above him he could hear the voices of 
Miss Barrington and the Colonel. To be 
caught in his own trap seemed too fool- 


In Castle Rheinwald 


133 


ish. He stood still for a moment irreso- 
lutely. Discovery was certain. He could 
not remain where he was, as they were 
sure to investigate this corridor, which 
contained a noble piece of tapestry. 
There was only one way out of the diffi- 
culty. He turned quickly, ascended the 
little flight of steps, and walked into the 
room where the Colonel at the instant 
was elaborately explaining the antiquity 
of a certain carved oak table. Hearing 
his step, they forgot the black old carv- 
ings in surprise at the intrusion. The 
Colonel was disconcerted. 

“Your roy ,” he began, but the 

Prince, anticipating such an address, 
drowned the words in an exclamation of 
greeting to the ladies. “Ah,” he said, 
“I am delighted to find you at last. I 
have looked everywhere for you.” He 
glanced warningly at the Colonel, who 
had now caught his breath and assumed 
very badly a conspicuous indifference. 

“It is a pleasure we did not dream of, 
Mr. Scott,” said Miss Barrington. “I am 


134 


Roland of Altenburg 


afraid you have inconvenienced yourself 
and Colonel von Meyer has been ex- 
tremely kind. We are so grateful for 
your intercession.” 

“It was nothing at all,” protested Ro- 
land. “I wish I might have done some- 
thing really hard — had a new wing built 
for you or resurrected buried treasures or 
supplied a skeleton to each dungeon.” 

“Oh, we are satisfied with this. The 
castle is enchanting. And you are quite 
remarkable enough as it is,” she added 
with that wonderful slow smile of hers. 
“I go for a morning ride in Central Park 
and meet you at the first turn of the path. 
I go sight-seeing on the other side of the 
world and meet you in a royal palace. 
What is the mystery? You dropped down 
just now like a wizard. Or are there trap- 
doors leading from musty secret passages 
in this exciting old room?” 

“You may find anything in Rheinwald,” 
returned Roland. “There are too many 
hidden passages and unsuspected doors. 
But I came up a prosaic stairway for the 


In Castle Rheinwald 


*35 


purpose of assisting Colonel von Meyer 
in his task as guide.” 

The Colonel was obviously astonished, 
but he could only submit. He would 
have liked to remonstrate. It seemed 
too dangerous a mission for this stalwart 
young fellow with the big, eloquent eyes. 
For her also there was danger, he felt as 
he looked from one to the other. He 
wished that he could intervene and keep 
them apart, but he vaguely recognized a 
situation that was beyond his tact. He 
looked on helplessly while the Prince led 
Miss Barrington to a window to show her 
the valley and the great sweep of the 
mountains that bounded it. Roland stood 
with his back to it as he talked to her, 
and somehow it was borne in upon the 
Colonel that the talk was not all about 
the view. He tried awkwardly to make 
Mrs. Gerard join them, but at that mo- 
ment she was too much interested in the 
tapestries, which were a fad of hers, to 
remember her duties as chaperon. She 
led him and Miss Rand into the corridor, 


i3 6 


Roland of Altenburg 


where the Prince had been caught, to 
examine the priceless bit of Gobelin that 
hung there. 

For the moment Roland was left alone 
with Katherine. “Do you know,” he was 
saying very softly, “it seems incredible 
that this is only the fifth time we have 
been together. You are a part of every- 
thing now. I can’t imagine what it was 
like without you. Yet during all the 
years before that day in New York things 
must have happened. You must have 
lived and had friends and met adven- 
tures— and I had no share in them.” 

She had been looking off over the val- 
ley, but at this she raised her eyes and 
there was a mist in them. It made his 
heart jump. “They seem so far away,” 
she answered quite simply. Her voice 
was low, but there were thrilling cadences 
in it. “Sometimes I think it was another 
life which will never come back. Some- 
times — well, I don’t care whether it does 
or not.” 

Roland looked down at her and 


In Castle Rheinwald 


l 37 


breathed deep. “Let it all go,” he said 
slowly. “Let it go.” 

Mrs. Gerard drew aside the curtain 
and came into the room. 

“Katherine,” she said with some excite- 
ment, “you must not miss this wonderful 
piece of Gobelin. I believe it is the 
finest of them all. It is remarkable, Mr. 
Scott,” she added as the girl reluctantly 
turned to follow her, “that such a collec- 
tion is not better known. I never even 
heard of it. When my niece suggested 
Oberholtz I actually tried to make her go 
to Vienna instead.” 

Roland silently followed her into the 
corridor and listened abstractedly to her 
laudatory chatter. When they left the 
tower he found that all parts of the castle 
had been explored with the exception of 
the Prince’s private apartments. To Ro- 
land there was a curious sense of warmth 
and happiness in showing Miss Barring- 
ton the rooms where he lived. They had 
never seemed so beautiful to him or so 
complete. He looked at them from a 


138 


Roland of Altenburg 


new point of view, and with a new enthu- 
siasm. Everything was enriched for him 
by her little phrases of surprise and 
admiration. 

“And where is the Prince himself during 
all this time?” asked Miss Barrington 
as they were leaving his apartments. 

“Some time ago,” answered Roland, “I 
was told that his royal highness was at 
work in his study.” 

“Wouldn’t it be exciting to see him?” 
she exclaimed, “if only we need not be 
discovered. This is all so wonderful that 
he must be worth while, even if he is a 
prince. I confess that he appeals to me 
more strongly as the owner of this ancient 
castle than as the high and mighty ruler 
of Altenburg. Are you very sure that he 
is quite like other men? Or is he really 
only a myth?” 

“Sometime you may have a chance to 
judge for yourself,” answered Roland, 
trying to speak lightly. To him the little 
journey through the rooms had not given 
everything. He would have liked some- 


In Castle Rheinwald 


139 


thing more intimate, more personal. Yet 
there were compensations. There were 
moments at her side, there was a look of 
appeal now and then, or of confidence. 
And at parting there was something elec- 
tric in the pressure of her hand and the 
light in her eyes. 

After they had gone, the old castle 
seemed bleak enough. The warmth had 
gone out of Roland’s heart. It all seemed 
too unreal. He wondered if it could 
really be true that Katherine Barrington 
had been a guest at Rheinwald, that she 
had sat at his table, and looked out upon 
the valley that he loved. The memory of 
it melted away from him like a vision, and 
his whirling brain tried in vain to call it 
back. 



Felzenbruck Plays to Win 


141 


XII 

Felzenbruck Plays to Win 


OLAND turned with a sigh to his 
desk, and for a time he sat with 
his head buried in his hands. He 
was interrupted by the opening of 
the door to admit the lord chamberlain. 

“The envoy from his royal highness, 
the Prince of Felzenbruck,” he said, 
“ay/aits your pleasure, Sire.” 

Summoned suddenly from his reverie, 
Roland forced himself to remember his 
duty to his country. He went at once to 
the audience room where he was awaited 
by the envoy and the members of his 
own cabinet. 

At first the interview consisted of diplo- 
matic platitudes, expressions of hope for 
everlasting friendship between the two 
countries, and an interchange of flatteries. 
But the real question would not long be 
kept back. Arbitration had failed to 



I 4 2 


Roland of Altenburg 


effect a settlement of the boundary dis- 
pute, and the envoy had been sent to 
sound Prince Roland in regard to his posi- 
tion in the matter. 

“The joint commission has failed to 
agree as to the boundaries, your royal 
highness,” declared the envoy from Fel- 
zenbruck, “and the matter has been re- 
ferred to my royal master and to your 
royal highness for adjustment. Happily 
the contemplated alliance between the 
two houses will make this an easy task.” 

“You refer to the marriage of her 
royal highness, the Princess Theresa, and 
myself?” 

“Such a union would unite the two 
nations by bonds stronger than friend- 
ship,” put in von Becker, “and make the 
interests of one country practically the 
interests of the other.” 

The question Prince Roland had 
avoided for months must now be settled. 
It seemed impossible to face it squarely. 
He temporized, ignoring von Becker. 
“I think you exaggerate the effect of such 


Felzenbruck Plays to Win 


H3 


an arrangement,” he said, “upon the ques- 
tion at issue. I cannot believe that it 
would smooth matters over so easily. 
The justice of our position would not be 
changed by it, and it is probable that the 
arrogance of your commissioners would 
return as soon as their congratulations 
had been offered.” 

The envoy drew himself up in surprise 
and von Becker was visibly alarmed. 

“You forget, Sire,” said the former, 
“that their attitude toward the consort 
of her royal highness, the Princess 
Theresa, who is the idol of our people, 
would be entirely different from that 
toward an independent ruler.” 

But the Prince was not to be turned 
from his course. “Nevertheless,” he con- 
tinued in open defiance of precedent, 
“human nature is human nature, and one 
does not like a man’s opinion any better 
for taking him into the family. I do not 
care to place my country in a position 
where things will be granted as a favor 
that are not granted as a right.” 


144 


Roland of Altenburg 


The envoy was silent, and after an 
instant the Prince continued: “It is not 
pleasant to seem ungallant, but may I ask 
what alternative is offered?” 

A thunderbolt would not have caused 
greater surprise. Von Becker did not 
conceal his consternation, and the envoy 
from Felzenbruck turned white. 

“I am not prepared, Sire,” he said with 
a touch of scorn, “for such a contingency. 
I was given no instructions about an alter- 
native.” 

“His royal highness, Prince Friedrich, 
merely wishes to announce the date of 
the marriage,” expostulated von Becker, 
not believing that he had heard Roland 
correctly. “It is necessary to conciliate 
public opinion.” 

“Do not misunderstand me, gentlemen,” 
the Prince said with firmness. “I am sug- 
gesting that this alliance may not be the 
best thing for either country.” 

“But your royal highness cannot mean 
to repudiate this betrothal, which has 
been known to the world and hailed with 


Felzenbruck Plays to Win 


r 45 


delight by the people of both nations,” 
put in one of his ministers. 

‘‘You know, gentlemen, that this be- 
trothal was conceived by her royal 
highness’ father and by my late uncle, 
and” — Roland wished to leave no doubt 
as to his attitude — ‘‘neither she nor I had 
any voice in the matter.” 

‘‘But have you considered, Sire, the 
position in which her royal highness 
would be placed?” asked the envoy from 
Felzenbruck. 

“Such an affront is, — pardon me, Sire,” 
added von Becker, “but it is inconceiv- 
able.” 

Roland ignored his counselor’s remark 
and spoke to the envoy. “It is possible 
that she, too, may have an opinion on the 
question at variance with her father’s 
desires,” he said. “I recognize her right 
to follow her own inclinations. She may 
not care to offer herself as a sacrifice.” 

“Her royal highness will do her 
father’s bidding,” said the envoy. 

“God help her,” thought Roland, real- 


146 


Roland of Altenburg 


izing out of the depths of his own suffer- 
ing that the Princess was human and to 
be pitied. 

Von Becker pleaded with him and 
endeavored to impress upon him the 
gravity of the situation. 

“There can be no alternative but war, 
your royal highness,” he said in his ear. 
“If this interview were known it would be 
in itself a virtual declaration of war.” 

“Is it the wish of your royal highness 
that I should ask for instructions in this 
emergency?” asked the envoy from Fel- 
zenbruck, knowing only too well how 
Prince Friedrich would receive the infor- 
mation. 

Roland began to realize that the inter- 
view might have disastrous consequences 
if it were reported to the Prince of Felzen- 
bruck. His point of view had always 
been misunderstood by these politicians, 
encrusted with prejudice, hardened into a 
fixed purpose. His position would be 
distorted and his ideas twisted into an 
affront. He was not quite sure, indeed, 


Felzenbruck Plays to Win 147 


that he was guiltless. He felt that he 
had made an awkward blunder, but he 
was confident of his ability to adjust it. 

“The boundary question has been re- 
ferred to your royal master and myself,” 
he said after a pause, “and it will be the 
more easily settled by a personal inter- 
view. I beg that our talk this morning 
may be regarded as confidential. Con- 
vey to his royal highness, the Prince of 
Felzenbruck, my most cordial salutations 
and tell him that I shall give myself the 
honor of waiting upon him at any time 
and place that he may designate. If one 
week from to-day is consistent with his 
engagements, it will be satisfactory to me.” 

“One week from to-day,” echoed the 
other. 

The envoy withdrew somewhat dissatis- 
fied with the result of his mission, but dis- 
tinctly relieved by the impression he 
gained that Prince Roland had reconsid- 
ered his extraordinary position. 

For an hour Roland fought the depres- 
sion which was heavy upon him. He 


148 


Roland of Altenburg 


had failed utterly at an important crisis. 
He had shown himself insolent and arro- 
gant where he should have been concilia- 
tory. It seemed like the end of things — 
this plan. Evidently he was but a puppet, 
to dance when his counselors piped and 
laugh when they gave the signal. They 
offered him up as a sacrifice as easily as 
though he were a leaden image. Had 
they made his life so happy for him that 
they thought he loved the bondage? Did 
they fancy that he was longing for more 
chains? If he were only sure that the 
people demanded it — his people, whom 
he pitied and admired and hoped to 
help — it would be easier. For them he 
would make the sacrifice. It would be 
hard, but he would make it eagerly. But 
for these politicians — what was the use? 
They might be entirely wrong in thinking 
it the right thing to do. It might mean a 
complete surrender of his country and 
his ideals. The sturdy little province 
had lived for centuries independent of 
the mightier nations around it. Like a 


Felzenbruck Plays to Win 


149 


David, weak and fearless, it had kept its 
integrity against strength and greed. In 
happy seclusion its destiny had been 
worked out. It seemed like surrender to 
join forces now with its hereditary rival. 
It was as if he had been bribed to keep 
the peace and allow the rights of his 
people to be forgotten. It was mediaeval. 

There must be some other way out of 
the dilemma. He came back to that. 
Yet he searched his mind in vain for one. 
He went over the details of the contro- 
versy — the agitation in Felzenbruck over 
the strip of land suddenly rendered valu- 
able through the discovery of coal, the 
ridiculous claim that their boundary lay 
on the river instead of twenty miles to 
the east, the distrust that had arisen in 
Altenburg, the revolt of the residents of 
the strip against the claims of Felzen- 
bruck. The whole thing was so unfair 
that it seemed like a comedy. But it 
threatened to change at any moment into 
tragedy. The very absurdity of the 
claim made it dangerous, for the people 


150 


Roland of Altenburg 


of Felzenbruck were notoriously deficient 
in a sense of humor. The ridicule of the 
Oberholtz newspapers had eaten into 
them like fire. 

One way out had been made plain 
enough by the courteously insolent 
envoy. Nothing else was as simple and 
effective. It came to him with depressing 
force. He might go far afield, but he 
always circled back to that. He had 
refused to eat dinner and he ignored his 
valet when Hugo asked if he might send 
him something. It was long past mid- 
night when he finally thought of ending 
his vigil. Sleep, if it would come to him, 
might make his mind more alert in the 
morning. He had rung for Hugo and 
was impatiently awaiting his arrival when 
the door was suddenly thrown open to 
admit Colonel von Meyer, breathless and 
excited. 

“Karl!” exclaimed the Prince in amaze- 
ment. “What brings you here at this 
hour?” 

The Colonel was breathing too heavily 


Felzenbruck Plays to Win 1 5 1 


to answer. He had hurried desperately, 
for his uniform was soaked by the storm 
and his face was red from the unusual 
exertion. 

“What is it, Karl?” said Roland kindly. 
“Where have you been?” 

The Colonel was not easily calmed, but 
he answered jerkily, “I should not have 
come, Sire. You are already too much 
burdened with care, but I thought you 
would want to know — they have gone!” 

“Who have gone?” cried the Prince. 

“The Americans.” 

“Gone!” exclaimed Roland with a wild 
hopelessness in his voice. “What do you 
mean? Where have they gone?” 

“They have gone to Felzenbruck and I 
learn that they are in the gravest 
danger.” 

“Danger!” exclaimed the Prince. “How 
can they be in danger?” 

“I fear that the moment they have 
crossed the border they will be placed 
under arrest by the Felzenbruck author- 
ities, who even now are shadowing them.” 


I S 2 


Roland of Altenburg 


‘The thing is nonsense, Karl. If you 
have not been drinking you must be 
insane. There is no more danger of 
their arrest than of mine.” 

“I wish it were nonsense,” replied the 
Colonel seriously, ‘‘but the situation is 
grave. The ladies will be arrested as 
Altenburg spies.” 

‘Spies!” gasped the Prince, starting for- 
ward and taking the Colonel by the 
shoulders. “Spies! You are joking, 
man.” 

“My information came from Captain 
Kleinhaus of the secret service,” returned 
the Colonel. “I brought him here so 
that he might tell you himself of the dis- 
covery. It was made too late to prevent 
the departure of the ladies from Ober- 
holtz on the midnight train. Of course 
it is a trumped up charge, but the fact 
remains that the three women have been 
seized and are already on their way to 
the border.” 

Still Roland could not take the mat- 
ter seriously. Even with the two coun- 


Felzenbruck Plays to Win 


J 53 


tries already at war it would have been 
impossible, but now it seemed absurd and 
incredible. 

“Kleinhaus says they were abducted by 
spies from Felzenbruck, who are known 
to have been here, for a fortnight,” the 
Colonel resumed. “He believes that they 
knew you had called incognito upon Miss 
Barrington, and the conclusion they drew 
was that she was in secret consultation 
with you. It was borne out perhaps by 
the fact that the ladies had come to Ober- 
holtz direct from the capital of Felzen- 
bruck, where they might have gained 
valuable information from the officers 
they met.” 

The Prince was for a moment speech- 
less. “I begin to understand,” he said at 
last, quietly. “I remember being followed 
the nigh’t I went to the Grand Hotel. 
They must have been watching me 
then.” He touched an electric button 
and held it under his thumb for several 
seconds. 

“There is no time to wait,” he went on. 


154 


Roland of Altenburg 


“I got them into this scrape. Now I must 
get them out of it.” Roland strode to the 
table and, still standing, wrote on a blank 
sheet of paper: 

“Supt. Oberholtz & Berlin R. R.: Hold 
the Felzenbruck train at first station. 
Do not fail. Have fast engine and coach 
in readiness at Oberholtz station without 
a second’s delay. Speed is only requisite. 

“Roland.” 

“Have this message dispatched at once 
to the railroad office,” said the Prince, 
giving the telegram to the bewildered 
Hugo. “See that there is no delay and 
bring the reply immediately.” 

As the valet turned to go to the tele- 
graph room of the building, Roland faced 
the Colonel again. 

“There is but one way,” he said. “We 
must follow them, Colonel. How far has 
the Felzenbruck train gone?” 

“It is now 2:15,” answered von Meyer, 
glancing at the clock. “The train is a 
fast one and should be now approaching 


Felzenbruck Plays to Win 155 


Leigwitz. Your order ought to be deliv- 
ered at that point.” 

“And Leigwitz is one hundred miles 
from the border,” said the Prince exult- 
antly. “With a fast engine and the right- 
of-way, we can overtake them before 
dawn — yes, two hours ahead of the sun. 
If we leave Oberholtz by three o’clock, 
we ought to be in Leigwitz by five.” 

“While the ladies still sleep!” said the 
Colonel, echoing the triumph of the 
Prince. “What escort will you take?” 

“One company of our best men will be 
enough, Colonel. The local police of 
Leigwitz will be able to place these two 
men under arrest, but a company of sol- 
diers should be in reserve. Hurry, Karl, 
and give the orders. Wait! Before you 
go — does any one at the hotel know of 
this?” 

“Only Miss Barrington’s maid,” an- 
swered Karl. “She was clever enough 
to give the alarm quietly to Kleinhaus. 
They were kidnaped while driving out 
for the moonlight view of the old moun- 


1 56 


Roland of Altenburg 


tain convent. He has kept it from the 
hotel people.” 

The Prince uttered an oath under his 
breath. “Kleinhaus should have known 
in time to prevent this outrage,” he said 
bitterly. “But it can’t be undone. Get 
your men ready as quickly as possible.” 

Von Meyer strode away. The Prince 
had become a man of action — quick to 
decide and eager to act — with no trace 
of the evening’s hopelessness. He made 
his arrangements swiftly and without a 
pause. Three or four servants did his 
bidding, each mystified and wondering, 
but asking no question — obeying with 
dog-like faithfulness and with the preci- 
sion of trained soldiers. Felzenbruck 
and the Princess Theresa were forgotten. 
Katherine Barrington must be saved at 
any cost. He dared not think of her fate 
if he should fail. It was not possible to 
fail. He completed his preparations 
with an alert steadiness of purpose that 
commanded the respect of his attendants. 
His impatient demand for a reply to his 


Felzenbruck Plays to Win 


*57 


telegram was not answered until he was 
ready to enter the carriage waiting at the 
castle door. At that moment Hugo ar- 
rived breathless from the telegraph office, 
bearing a slip of paper, which the Prince 
seized and scanned. It bore these words: 

‘‘The superintendent of the Oberholtz 
& Berlin R. R. regrets to inform his 
royal highness that the ice storm of the 
night has felled the wires along the line 
of its railroad, and that repeated attempts 
to raise Leigwitz, at which city the fast 
Felzenbruck train is soon due, have 
failed. The last report received by the 
train dispatcher was from Bremenburg, 
twenty miles this side of Leigwitz. The 
train left that station forty minutes late, 
owing to the slippery rails. The superin- 
tendent has the pleasure of saying, how- 
ever, that a special train will await the 
pleasure of his royal highness within a few 
minutes. 

“Schultz, Superintendent.” 

Roland gazed at this telegram in black 


I 5 S 


Roland of Altenburg 


despair. It seemed as though his heart 
had stopped beating. For an instant 
his brain was paralyzed. Then he 
dragged his consciousness reluctantly to 
the surface, gave his orders to the foot- 
man, and jumped in. “It’s a thousand to 
one against us,” he muttered, “but I will 
take the one chance.” 


The Pursuit 


! 59 


XIII 

The Pursuit 

OLAND drove to the railroad sta- 
tion through the deserted streets 
of Oberholtz, filled with thoughts 
as dark as the night. He had or- 
dered the coachman to urge the horses to 
their utmost speed, but with the icy roads 
and the cutting sleet, they slid and stum- 
bled in a way to make the distance seem 
endless. At the station he found Colonel 
von Meyer waiting for him, and the com- 
pany of soldiers already on the train. Von 
Meyer, much disturbed, had heard the 
news. Schultz, the railroad superintend- 
ent, was with him, anxious and agitated. 

“Your wires seem always to be out of 
order when they are most needed,” ex- 
claimed Roland, as Schultz saluted. 

“We are unfortunate, Sire, but we can- 
not control the elements,” returned 
Schultz, astonished at his unreasonable 
anger. “The wires are down through no 



i6o 


Roland of Altenburg 


fault of ours. The storm is unprece- 
dented.” 

The Prince repented. “You are right, 
Schultz, of course. But we must over- 
take the train. That is understood, I 
hope. There must be no mistake.” 

“Two of the swiftest and most powerful 
engines on the road are at your service, 
Sire, manned by our best crews. The 
train is ready to start the instant your 
royal highness embarks. I shall accom- 
pany it, with your royal highness’ permis- 
sion, to look after your royal highness’ 
comfort.” 

“Comfort!” retorted Roland. “Do you 
suppose I am undertaking this trip for 
pleasure? What I want is speed.” 

“Our utmost power will be put forth, I 
assure you, Sire,” replied the superintend- 
ent, abashed at the strange ferocity of 
the Prince. 

They were walking rapidly through the 
station as they talked, and the superin- 
tendent added: “The Felzenbruck train 
is a heavy one, and it is likely that it will 


' The Pursuit 


161 


be much delayed, running without orders 
and through the storm. Our special, if 
it meet with no serious mishap, should 
come up with the other perhaps at 
Tarnowicz.” 

“Tarnowicz!” cried Roland in a heat. 
“Why, Tarnowicz is over the border!” 

“Less than twenty miles, Sire,” said 
Schultz, his wonder growing at the mys- 
terious journey and the peculiar manner 
of the young Prince. 

Roland looked at the man with blazing 
eyes; then restraining his impatience, he 
said quietly, “I must overtake the ex- 
press this side of the Felzenbruck line. 
It must be done!” 

Schultz, although feeling that the 
Prince was demanding an impossibility, 
was too discreet to confess it. He 
answered, “Every resource of the road 
will be strained to its utmost limit. But 
your royal highness will recognize that 
we work against great obstacles. With 
icy rails and broken wires, we confront 
many dangers in attempting such a run. 


162 


Roland of Altenburg 


Your royal highness’ life is too valua- 
ble— T-” 

“I take the risk,” interrupted Roland. 
“The express must be caught before it 
reaches the border.” 

By this time they had left the silent 
station behind them. The Prince had 
hardly set his foot upon the stepof thetrain 
when the puffing locomotives started out 
into the darkness. For an hour the spe- 
cial toiled laboriously through the moun- 
tains, its tortuous and hilly path making 
it impossible to attain more than a frac- 
tion of the speed Roland so impatiently 
demanded. 

“This pace will not overtake the Fel- 
zenbruck train in a hundred years!” 
fumed the Prince, starting up restlessly in 
his anxiety. “I could make better time 
afoot.” 

“You must not forget,” replied Colonel 
von Meyer, his only companion in the 
coach, “that the express had the same 
wearisome mountains to climb before it 
emerged into the valley where the track 


‘ The Pursuit 


163 


lies comparatively straight and down- 
grade to the border.” 

The two sat in silence, the Prince long- 
ing for the valley, and his faithful officer 
wondering about the result of their wild 
chase. Roland had not allowed his mind 
to dwell on this point. He had followed 
an irresistible impulse without a thought 
of consequences. Even with Miss Bar- 
rington safely back in Oberholtz, he 
knew not what course he would pursue. 
He only realized that through his decep- 
tion of the girl a^d his infatuation for her 
she had been placed in danger. The 
fault was his, and the responsibility for 
her release was his also. 

“This is all due to me,” he said aloud 
to von Meyer. “If I had not lost my 
head, these Americans would have pur- 
sued their travels untroubled.” 

The Colonel sighed. “You could not 
by any possibility have foreseen this.” 

“No, and I cannot understand now how 
it happened. The charge against them 
is not serious, of course. It must be a 


164 


Roland of Altenburg 


blind. But what does it cover, Karl? 
What can there be behind it?” 

“There may be nothing,” von Meyer 
answered. “They are a suspicious set 
across the border. They watch us like a 
cat and they do not look with favor upon 
what they call our eccentricities.” 

“No, they don’t like me in the least,” 
Roland agreed. “Why they should wish 
to condemn their adored little Princess to 
a life with me I can’t make out. If I 
should marry her they would hedge me 
round pleasantly with a new set of 
restrictions.” 

The Colonel leaned forward and said 
very gravely, “But you must face them, 
my boy. It will mean great opportunities, 
and this is no time to shirk.” 

Roland rose and threw back his head. 
“I am not in the habit of shirking,” he 
said proudly. “It is not a question of 
duty. It is a question of expediency. 
How do I know that the alliance is wise? 
You cannot be sure that it will not limit 
my opportunities instead of enlarging 


( The Pursuit 


i6 5 


them. In the long run the expedient 
thing is never wise.” 

“No, but this is different,” the Colonel 
answered. “You have given your word — 
or your uncle has given his, which is the 
same thing for you. It is impossible to 
dishonor his pledges.” 

“It is impossible,” the Prince slowly 
echoed. “I have no right to happiness. 
It’s the price one pays for standing on 
this cheerful pinnacle. It’s the sacrifice 
one offers for a power that crushes like 
egg-shells when you try to grasp it. I 
shall make it, of course, but what is it 
worth to me or to any one?” 

“It is worth peace to your people,” pro- 
tested von Meyer. 

“Peace!” said Roland, and there was a 
touch of contempt in his voice. “It will 
put off the quarrel possibly until the end 
of the honeymoon, and then it will break 
out more dangerously because it will be 
covered up with flatteries. We may as 
well see the situation clearly, Karl. I 
shall make the sacrifice, but it will be for 


1 66 


Roland of Altenburg 


the politicians and not for the people. 
What do the people care? For a week 
the marriage will give them some senti- 
mental pleasure. Then they will forget 
it. But if I should do what I like, if I 
should break away from traditions and 
show some genuine feeling, it would make 
me human to them and even heroic.” 

For a brief moment the Prince stood 
silent and there were visions in his eyes. 
Then he held out his hand and the 
Colonel rose and clasped it. 

“I count on you, Karl,” Roland said seri- 
ously. It was a moment that held com- 
pressed all kinds of possibilities — hopes 
and fears and dangers and difficulties. 
It made a bond between them against 
the world. But neither faltered, and 
it was plain that neither would ever for- 
get. 

Soon afterward the train emerged from 
the mountains and started down the long 
incline that led through the valley of 
Galenburg. The speed was now acceler- 
ated, and with each passing second the 


The Pursuit 


i6y 


plunging monsters ahead took the Prince 
and his escort faster and faster into the 
abyss of darkness, sending hoarse signals 
far into the night, shrieking, roaring, 
straining every nerve of steel to the des- 
perate task. 

“Ah!” exclaimed Roland exultantly, 
clinging to a support in the car, ‘this is 
rather better.” 

“Glorious!” echoed the Colonel, hang- 
ing tightly to his seat. 

“At this rate,” continued the Prince, 
“we shall surely come upon the express 
before it reaches the dead line. It could 
not have crossed Galenburg at one-third 
of this speed.” 

“If we should overtake it at the present 
rate,” said the Colonel, still more uncom- 
fortable, “there would be small need of 
pursuing the chase further.” 

The speed became terrific, and for an 
hour the train thundered recklessly into 
space while Roland and the Colonel tried 
now and then to talk above the noise of 
the cars, but more often relapsed into 


1 68 


Roland of Altenburg 


meditation. At length a sudden severe 
jolt fairly threw the Colonel to the floor 
and sent the Prince hurtling against a 
window, smashing it to fragments. The 
next instant the jerky vibrations of the 
wheels indicated that the air brakes had 
been applied with sudden vigor. The 
cars bounded up and down until with a 
groan and a final lunge the special came 
to a stop. 

“It’s the express!” cried the Prince, 
leaping up. They hurried from the car, 
and running forward along the embank- 
ment, saw not fifty yards ahead the red 
rear lights of the other train. 

‘ Caught!” cried Roland, and shouted, 
“Well done!” to Schultz as he passed him. 
Hurrying on, they found that the Felzen- 
bruck train was side-tracked at a little 
station. The sleeping cars were dark, but 
a guard stood on the platform holding a 
lantern and regarding with surprise the 
headlights of the special. A few hasty 
questions informed the Prince that the 
town was that of Czerski, a hamlet five 


"The Pursuit 


169 


miles from the border, and that the Fel- 
zenbruck train had been stalled there for 
forty minutes, fearing to proceed further 
without orders. 

Roland issued his commands swiftly. 
The company of soldiers was ordered to 
surround the express. The Prince and 
von Meyer and the captain of the guard 
entered one of the sleepers, the Prince 
explaining to the startled conductor that 
they were in search of three American 
ladies who took passage at Oberholtz, 
ticketed to the capital of Felzenbruck. 
The conductor did not recognize the 
Prince, but he realized that he was con- 
fronted by a man of rank and authority. 
He answered with deference, “I remem- 
ber them. They left the train a quarter 
of an hour ago, your highness.” 

“Left the train!” gasped Roland. “Non- 
sense, man. Why should they stop at 
such a town in the night? I want the 
truth.” He had seized the conductor 
roughly by the arm. 

“I spoke the truth,” replied the other,' 


170 Roland of Altenburg 


angered by the insinuation. “I don’t know 
who you are, but I will not be called a liar.” 

Stunned as he was, Roland could see 
that the man was honest. He released 
him suddenly and bade him speak. “As 
I told you, they left the train fifteen min- 
utes ago. They came from Oberholtz in 
charge of two officers.” 

Roland and von Meyer stood speech- 
less with wonder and disappointment 
while the conductor continued: “The 
officers had been riding in another com- 
partment of the train, but on learning 
s that we were likely to be delayed indefi- 
nitely, they consulted for a minute and 
then proceeded to the compartment of 
the ladies and ordered them to accom- 
pany them. Being officers, I could do 
nothing but demand their credentials, 
whiph were regular.” 

“Forgeries!” exclaimed the Prince in a 
fury. “You let yourself be tricked. 
Where did they go?” 

“They turned in the direction of the 
hamlet, the women protesting against the 


The Pursuit 


171 


outrage. One of them, I believe, was for 
resisting bodily, declaring they had been 
guilty of no crime and should not be sub- 
jected to insult. Another of the young 
women, however, said it would be easy to 
prove their identity before the proper offi- 
cers, and it would be useless to protest.” 

The picture brought the Prince to his 
senses and he rose to the emergency. 
Ordering a detachment of troops to 
search the train and make sure that the 
conductor had told the truth, he turned 
to von Meyer, crying, “After them, Karl! 
It is a race for the frontier, and they have 
half an hour’s start.” 



Tracing the Runaways 


173 


XIV 

'Tracing the Runaways 

HE sleet had now changed to rain, 
but the slush and water underfoot 

made the walking uncertain and 

the darkness was deep and im- 
penetrable. Guided by the station master, 
the Prince and the Colonel, accompanied 
by a portion of the troops, made their 
way to the tavern not far away. Lights 
were burning in the windows and the 
hopes of the two men rose high, but only 
for a moment. The ladies and their cap- 
tors, the landlord said, had departed not 
ten minutes before. 

“The officers were much pressed for 
time,” said the obliging host, “and would 
not wait for the refreshments I offered 
them. A half hour ago I was awakened 
by the sound of voices. I was no time at 
all dressing, and when I went to the door 
I found two officers and three ladies. I 



T 74 


Roland of Altenburg 


thought they had lost their way and told 
them to come in. It’s a poor place, sir, 
for ladies, but it was better than the 
storm.” 

“Yes, yes,” said Roland impatiently. 
“You should have kept them.” 

“I tried, sir,” the landlord continued, 
“but the men said they wouldn’t stop and 
asked for a carriage. They wanted to 
hurry on to Dietz. I had only one vehicle 
that would carry them and it was much 
dilapidated, but they took it. They did 
not waste a minute in harnessing my two 
bays. My hostler was engaged as coach- 
man and almost before I could realize it 
the whole party was off on the main 
road.” 

Turning to the Colonel, Roland said, 
“They never thought of going to Dietz. 
Returning toward .Oberholtz is the last 
thing they would do. They are trying to 
throw us all off the track.” Facing the 
startled hotelkeeper, he said sharply, 
“Are there any horses left in your 
stable?” 


Tracing the Runaways 175 


“One only and he is blind/’ said the 
landlord. “But my neighbor Schneider, 
across the road, can fix you up.” 

“Then saddle three of the best.” 

“But I do not know that Schneider 
would care to let his horses for so hard a 
pursuit. He ” 

“Go!” thundered Roland, and asked an 
officer to bargain with Schneider. 

The landlord, awed by Roland’s com- 
mand and by the presence of the soldiers 
of the Altenburg army, hesitated no 
longer but led the way to Schneider’s 
stable. In five minutes more the Prince 
and von Meyer, accompanied ' by the 
landlord himself, were galloping down 
the slippery road. Von Meyer had per- 
suaded the landlord to be the guide. In 
the interval during the saddling Roland 
had issued the command that as rapidly 
as horses could be procured, detachments 
of three soldiers each should be sent out 
on the various roads that led from 
Czerski, and the pursuit thus undertaken 
be not abandoned until it became certain 


176 


Roland of Altenburg 


that the fugitives had taken some other 
course. 

Roland and the Colonel, however, took 
the most direct route toward the border. 
The horses proved to be anything but 
trustworthy, and in the darkness that pre- 
ceded the dawn the way was filled with 
obstacles. The landlord was by no 
means a reliable guide, his information 
about the road proving surprisingly in 
error. As a result the Prince was at one 
time thrown into the ditch by the falling 
of his horse, and had it not been for the 
water into which he plunged, he might 
have met with serious injury. The 
Colonel, too, was not without adven- 
tures, and the guide at last was thrown 
and broke his arm — a mishap that effectu- 
ally put him out of service. 

The gray of dawn was breaking through 
the heavy clouds when this accident 
occurred, and the Colonel left the injured 
man with scant ceremony at the hut of a 
peasant, having generously supplied him 
with money. The two pursuers made a 


Tracing tht Runaways 


177 


sad spectacle, the Prince in civilian attire, 
drenched and besmeared with mud, the 
Colonel in a much battered uniform, and 
the jaded horses hardly able to bear their 
burdens. In this condition the two came, 
in the semi-light of early morning, to a 
lodge at the side of which was a stone 
pillar bearing the inscription: Felzen- 
bruck Boundary Line. 

To the Prince and von Meyer it was 
like the inscription Dante saw over the 
gates of hell: ‘'All Hope Abandon Ye 
Who Enter Here.” Two soldiers in the 
uniform of Felzenbruck emerged from 
the lodge and demanded the business of 
the horsemen. Seeing the Colonel’s uni- 
form, they became more polite, but in 
response to questions denied that a car- 
riage had recently passed that way. The 
men looked at each other for one instant 
and Roland was convinced that they 
were lying. Realizing, however, that an 
attempt to force a pursuit meant arrest, 
the Prince and von Meyer in deep dejec- 
tion turned back and soon dismounted at 


178 


Roland of Altenburg 


the cabin where they had left the injured 
landlord. The poor man was moaning, 
and the Colonel himself set the broken 
bone as best he could and bound it up 
securely. The peasant served a frugal 
breakfast from his scant store, and while 
they ate, Roland and von Meyer, talking 
in English, discussed the situation. 

“Of course the sentries lied to us,” said 
Roland. “There is no other direct road 
leading from Czerski to the border and 
those fellows would take the surest route. 
They could not have been many minutes 
ahead of us. We must invade the ene- 
my’s country, Karl. We must follow.'' 

“You would cross the border?” asked 
the Colonel in surprise. 

“There is nothing else to do. But first 
we must hear reports from the men who 
have been scouring the roads. We must 
be sure of our ground before we invade 
the enemy’s country.” 

Back in the town of Czerski, Roland 
received during the forenoon the state- 
ments of his soldiers who had gone many 


Tracing the Runaways 


179 


miles in all directions in search of the 
fugitives. Their stories were all the 
same. But early in the afternoon the first 
definite news of the American women 
was received. It came from the hostler, 
Hermann, who reached home with the 
landlord’s coach and bays, both man and 
beasts worn with the trip. It was as the 
Prince had anticipated. The abductors 
had made all haste for the border, evi- 
dently fearing pursuit. They had passed 
the border and driven toward the south- 
west to a tavern, where Hermann had 
been dismissed. He had remained there 
for some time to rest his team before 
beginning his homeward trip, and while 
he waited the two officers with the ladies 
had departed in another conveyance, the 
destination of which he did not learn. 

That evening the wind shifted to the 
north and the slush and water froze deep, 
leaving the surface of the earth a glare 
of ice. When the darkness had fairly set 
in, the Prince and the Colonel, having 
been refreshed by a few hours of much 


i8o 


Roland of Altenburg 


needed sleep, left Czerski on foot under 
guidance of a native of the place, who 
possessed a minute knowledge of the 
country. The men might have passed 
unrecognized even on the streets of Ober- 
holtz, so altered was their appearance. 
Both were dressed as peasants. 

They took a cross-cut over the fields, 
avoiding roads as much as possible, 
thankful that the sudden cold had made 
such a course possible. There was little 
conversation, but the three men steadily 
pursued their way, mile after mile, keep- 
ing an even pace, neither hurrying nor 
lagging. The border was safely passed 
in a lonely stretch of wood, dark and de- 
serted by such police as were on duty in 
the vicinity. Roland felt his heart beat 
fast as the guide whispered to him that 
they were now in Felzenbruck. For 
hours the three tramped on, shunning 
settlements, making wide detours to avoid 
peasants’ houses, passing over fields, 
through black forests, across frozen 
streams, now climbing steep hills, now 


Tracing the Runaways 


181 


descending into gullies. Everywhere was 
ice, ice, ice, and after a while the stars, 
shining through the breaking clouds, 
reflected their distant splendor in a mil- 
lion dancing, gleaming beams. It was a 
beautiful night, but cruelly cold and 
treacherous. 

At midnight the party reached the tav- 
ern where Hermann had left the Ameri- 
cans and their captors. They engaged 
rooms and retired, deeming it wise to go 
about their enterprise with the utmost 
discretion and in no unseemly haste. 
Otherwise, as they well knew, discovery 
awaited them and certain failure. 

Roland, being very weary after his long 
tramp in the frosty air, was quite ready to 
seek rest in the comfortable looking bed. 
His anxiety had grown into a sentiment 
none the less deep because it lacked the 
impetuosity of the first part of the pur- 
suit. His mind was now settled into a 
fixed resolve, yet the excitement had 
passed. He knew that the desperate 
exploits that might await him demanded 


182 


Roland of Altenburg 


that he keep himself in good condition 
and fortify himself with sleep. 

The room and its appointments were 
severely plain. By the light of his candle 
Roland observed that besides the door 
leading into the corridor there was an- 
other door, evidently opening into an 
adjoining room, and he made sure that it 
was securely bolted. Having done this 
and given a cursory glance over the an- 
cient furniture, he threw off his clothes 
and was soon drifting into the world of 
dreams. He had not yet reached the 
actual stage of sleep, when he became 
aware of the sound of voices, the exact 
location of which he could not tell until, 
rising on his elbow, he traced it to the 
room next to his own. Two men evi- 
dently had entered it and were speaking 
in so unrestrained a fashion that the 
Prince was instantly sure that they had 
been drinking. Disgusted at being thus 
disturbed, he once more sank back and 
resigned himself to slumber. But the 
loud talking grated on his overstrained 


Tracing the Runaways 183 


nerves and he discovered that sleep was 
no longer pressing. A sudden wakeful- 
ness had taken possession of his senses. 
He lay listening to the conversation, won- 
dering impatiently how long it would last, 
when his brain suddenly grew tense and 
alert. 

“It is said they are Americans,” one of 
the men had remarked, “and God, Fritz, 
weren’t they beautiful?” 

Roland bounded lightly out of bed, his 
hands clenched, his teeth set. But he 
subsided in a moment and sat listening 
on the side of the bed, every nerve at its 
utmost tension. 

“Champagne has made you sentimental 
to-night, Louis, though I do not deny that 
they were lovely. But what should 
beauty have to do with the punishment 
of spies? If they are guilty, I say chop off 
their heads, beautiful or ugly.” 

“And suppose they were not spies at 
all,” said Louis, more susceptible or more 
generous than his companion. “Suppose 
some officers simply liked their looks and 


1 84 


Roland of Altenburg 


wanted to have a good time. What do 
you say to that?” 

The other laughed boisterously and 
slapped his companion roughly on the 
back. “Come, come, man, you are drunk. 
It’s time for bed,” he said. 

“I am no more drunk than you are,” 
retorted Louis, sticking to his point with 
the obstinacy of a man in his cups. “I do 
not say that these girls are not spies, but 
the other thing does happen. There 
was old General Bulski, for instance. 
Don’t you remember how he kidnaped 
a German girl that he fancied?” 

“And a merry chase she led him, too! 
But no Felzenbruck officer would dare 
take American women on Altenburg soil 
and bring them here on such an errand. 
It’s a very different matter. Even a man 
in love has more sense than that. No, 
Louis, mark my word, these women are 
guilty or they would not have been here 
to-day.” 

“Have it as you will, then,” said Louis 
petulantly. “If you say they are guilty, 


Tracing the Runaways 


i8 5 


why, of course they are, that’s all. But 
I’ll bet that, guilty or innocent, the two 
young ladies will not easily get out of the 
clutches of Count Zito. As to the old 
one, I don’t know. Perhaps he will offer 
her a place as housekeeper.” 

The Prince, sitting on his bed in the 
dark, heard these words with strange 
emotion. Here, before he had been the 
guest of the tavern for half an hour, 
Providence had thrown in his way the 
information he so eagerly sought. These 
drunken officers had bawled in his ear 
the news that he would have paid a for- 
tune or dared impossible feats to possess. 
But it was gruesome news. The name of 
Zito set him shuddering. 

“He would have no trouble finding hus- 
bands for the damsels,” answered Louis’ 
comrade. “The bidding would be high.” 

Roland gritted his teeth but kept silent. 

“Old Zito would marry them both if he 
could— he’s the very devil himself.” 

“Shut up!” interrupted the other in a 
hoarse whisper, even more penetrating 


1 86 


Roland of Altenburg 


than Louis’ words had been. “It’ll be off 
with our heads if any one hears you.” 

Louis appeared to be impressed and 
said no more. His companion, however, 
taken with the idea that the conversation 
might have been overheard, put his ear 
to the keyhole of the door to the adjoin- 
ing room. Being slightly unsteady, he 
bumped his head on the panel with a loud 
crack and swore violently. “Beg pardon!” 
he called out. “Did I disturb you?” 

Roland made no reply, but instead 
breathed loud and deep as if in slumber. 

“The room is occupied,” said the Fel- 
zenbruck officer after listening for a 
while, “but whoever he is, he’s sleeping 
like a sentinel on duty.” 

It was not long before the conversation 
stopped and the drunken officers slept. 
But Roland was wide-awake. Every 
nerve was tingling. He lay back on his 
bed, staring up at the darkness, a thou- 
sand wild plans forming in his mind. 
The news had surprised and horrified 
him. He had expected to find the 


Tracing the Runaways 


187 


women at some military post under 
guard, but suffering no personal affront. 
The knowledge that they were at Castle 
Stanek, in the hands of the notorious 
Count Zito,. filled him with rage and 
alarm. He could not see how it had 
happened. Why had her captors has- 
tened past at least two military posts, 
where they might have lodged their 
prisoners, and proceeded to Stanek, the 
stronghold of the Count whose name was 
a byword throughout Europe? 

Roland racked his brain as he lay 
there, trying to find a motive for this 
vagary and to work out a means of 
thwarting it. The hours dragged by, 
each seeming an age to the sleepless 
Prince. Though wild with desire to be 
up and off, he dared not for Katherine’s 
sake direct attention to himself by any 
disturbance or by an unexplained disap- 
pearance. Morning broke at last, a dis- 
mal, cold and cheerless morning, bearing 
little hope to the exiled Prince of Alten- 
burg. 
































' 










. 





































































































- 




























Castle Stanek 


189 


XV 

Castle Stanek 

HE old Castle of Stanek stood in 
a forest, surrounded by a vast 

estate, much of it rough, rocky 

and untillable, but partially set- 
tled by peasants who derived a precarious 
living from the stony soil after paying 
the heavy rents demanded by the Count. 
The castle itself was ancient and fallen 
into decay. It was occupied only occasion- 
ally by its profligate owner, when some 
fancy of his wandering career took him 
there. At other times he roamed through 
the capitals of Europe and Asia, leaving 
a trail of scandal which had made the 
name of Zito notorious. He had fought 
many duels, been desperately wounded, 
and more than once killed his adversary. 
His entanglements with women of noble 
families had made him a terror in several 
courts, and his fearless disregard of dis- 



190 


Roland of Altenburg 


grace had earned for him a reputation 
which made him dreaded. 

The Count had lived a life which 
would have killed most men. Although 
he was not yet fifty, his fierce rriustache 
and imperial were white as snow. His 
hooked nose, square chin and pierc- 
ing gray eyes made one wonder what 
power such a man could exert over wo- 
men. But those who knew him were 
well aware of the insidious fascination he 
possessed. Brilliant in conversation, win- 
ning in his gallantries, daring in his atten- 
tions, contemptuous of rivals, Count Zito 
seemed to hold a charm which women 
could not resist. He had never married, 
but he had broken scores of hearts. 

The Americans could hardly have fallen 
into more pitiless hands. It was in his 
half-ruined castle that they were now in- 
carcerated, with a pretense of law to hold 
them there, and only two men to attempt 
succor. 

On the following afternoon the Prince 
and the Colonel left the tavern and 


Castle Stanek 


191 


walked in the direction of Stanek. No 
definite plan had been arranged; any 
scheme seemed bold beyond the bounds 
of possibility. Yet remembering the vow 
they had taken, they were prepared to 
attempt the impossible — to die, if need be, 
in its accomplishment. Appeal to the 
authorities was not to be considered. 
Interference on the part of Altenburg 
would only have the effect of strengthen- 
ing the evidence against the Americans. 
Any formal demand on Felzenbruck by 
the Prince of Altenburg was certain to be 
met with rebuff, ridicule and failure. It 
was either diplomacy, which would mean 
delay and possible defeat, or a resort to 
strategy. Delay was intolerable, for to 
leave Miss Barrington in the power of 
Zito even fora day was more ,than Ro- 
land could endure. Strategy, therefore, 
was the only resource, but the difficul- 
ties of applying it seemed insurmount- 
able. 

Finding shelter in a peasant’s cottage 
a mile from the castle, Roland and von 


192 


Roland of Altenburg 


Meyer waited for the night to shield a 
preliminary reconnoiter. The peasant 
himself was a simple, affable fellow, and 
neither he nor his stupid wife manifested 
much curiosity. Roland drew them out 
skillfully and obtained much valuable in- 
formation about Stanek. 

“Count Zito,” said the peasant, “has 
been in Stanek not more than a day. He 
had sent no word in advance and his 
arrival threw the household into great 
excitement, especially as many things had 
been neglected that should have received 
attention. The Count is not a gracious 
man to his servants, and his fury was 
something terrible when he beheld the 
condition of things. We all wondered 
what had brought him here at such a 
season, but it was easy to find the reason 
when a carriage arrived soon afterward 
with three women, two of them young 
and beautiful.” 

“And who are these visitors?” asked 
Roland with apparent carelessness. “No 
doubt they are from some gay court, and 


Castle Stanek 


193 


seek a period of quiet in this solemn 
atmosphere.” 

“No,” said the peasant, whose name 
was Szlapka, “it is whispered about that 
Zito holds them prisoners on a charge 
that they are spies from Altenburg.” 

“Spies from Altenburg!” said Roland, 
affecting surprise. “And why should 
Count Zito entertain them? Are there 
not prisons where such criminals are 
taken?” 

“I suppose there are,” answered 
Szlapka, “though I know little about such 
matters.” He shrugged his shoulders 
and the Prince perceived that he had an 
opinion of his own which he did not dare 
to put into words. Roland sought unsuc- 
cessfully to draw him out, but fearing to 
arouse the man’s suspicions, was forced to 
abandon the attempt for the time and 
turn the conversation to general topics. 

The two visitors were fatigued and hun- 
gry, and Szlapka s good wife was pleased 
to provide for them the best her scanty 
pantry contained, especially when she 


194 


Roland of Altenburg 


cast her eyes upon the shining gold coin 
which was laid before her on the' clean, 
uncovered kitchen table. She hid the 
money carefully in her bosom and there- 
after was ready to do instantly the bid- 
ding of her guests, anticipating their 
wants as well as her meager abilities 
would permit. It further pleased her 
when Roland took upon his knee her 
little daughter and told her a wonderful 
story — a story which in truth he had first 
heard as a tiny lad back in the royal 
nursery at Oberholtz. The Prince de- 
liberately set about establishing these 
confidential relations, knowing that some 
emergency might arise to give value to 
his friendship with these simple people. 

Without a direct statement, Roland let 
Szlapka understand that he and his com- 
rade were traveling some distance further 
southward on private business. Finding 
the roads dangerous for horses, they had 
undertaken the journey on foot, a method 
which they found safer and more com- 
fortable during the icy period. Szlapka 


Castle Stanek 


l 95 


was satisfied and showed no suspicion. 
When the evening meal had been eaten 
and the peasant was attending to his cat- 
tle for the night, Roland proposed to the 
Colonel that as the night was clear over- 
head and the wind not too cold, they 
would do well to stroll over to the castle 
and see it by starlight. The woman 
gave them ample directions and they set 
off through the woods, bent on making 
the secret investigation that might enable 
them to formulate plans for the rescue of 
the prisoners. There was a well-worn 
path, and by the light of the stars they 
had little difficulty in following it through 
a ravine and over a hill until it entered a 
broad road that led to the castle’s main 
entrance. 

Here the pair made a detour through 
the woods, walking cautiously until they 
came to the edge of an opening where 
they could see the lights of Stanek twink- 
ling from the deep-set windows. The 
Prince’s pulse quickened at the sight, and 
then dropped like lead as he noticed the 


196 


Roland of Altenburg 


formidable strength of the dim structure, 
rising cold and repellent in the night. 
What chance, he bitterly thought, had 
two men against the might of such a 
place? What chance had he and von 
Meyer against such a crafty, evil soul as 
Zito, whose word was law and whose law 
was merciless? 

They were silent for some time, de- 
pressed and anxious. Then the Colonel 
whispered, “I believe the part of the 
house that is used by the Count is there 
where we see the double row of lights.” 

“God knows where the prisoners are, 
Karl,” answered Roland gloomily. “They 
may be in a dungeon beneath the 
moat.” 

The Colonel was silent for a -time, feel- 
ing the truth of the Prince’s disheartening 
words. Then he whispered, “We must 
first discover where they are held. The 
servants love the Count none too well. 
We might bribe them.” 

“I have thought of that,” answered Ro- 
land, “but it would take a long investiga- 


Castle Stanek 


197 


tion to discover a vulnerable point. And 
it would mean that more than one servant 
would have to be let into the secret, with 
that added danger of betrayal. They 
hate Zito, of course, but he probably has 
them well cowed. No, Karl, we must do 
this single-handed.” 

They waited in gloomy silence, watch- 
ing the shadowy outline of the castle, 
noting the lights in the windows and 
occasionally seeing a passing figure within. 
They examined every side of the build- 
ing, keeping well within the borders of 
the forest and moving with great care 
lest their presence be discovered by the 
sentinel they could see at intervals pass- 
ing in front of the light that shone at the 
main entrance. But there seemed to be 
some indefinable attraction in the double 
row of lights to which von Meyer had 
called attention, and in the course of half 
an hour they found themselves back in 
their original position. 

“We can do nothing to-night,” said 
Roland at length, speaking wearily and 


198 


Roland of Altenburg 


with the air of a man without hope. “We 
must learn more of the interior of the 
place and try to sound the servants. I’m 
afraid it’s the only way.” 

The Colonel turned abruptly and strode 
off through the woods. Then he stopped 
and faced about, waiting for the Prince 
to approach. But Roland still stood 
looking toward the castle, and something 
about the tense, immovable figure caught 
the attention of von Meyer. Hastening 
back to his side, he too cast his eyes 
toward the windows of the castle. 

“Look!” said the Prince in an excited 
whisper. “Look, Karl!” 

In one of the windows in the wing 
where the double lights burned there 
shone a red glow — so bright that von 
Meyers first thought was that the castle 
was in flames. But before he could voice 
the impression the light vanished, leaving 
the window black. Within a few seconds 
the red glow reappeared, remaining for a 
brief period and again vanishing. Four 
times this was repeated, then blackness 


Castle Stanek 


199 


for a minute, and a repetition of the 
whole proceeding. 

For a time the two men stood spell- 
bound, watching this uncanny manifesta- 
tion. Neither spoke, but both were 
possessed by the same wild thought — a 
thought that sent the blood leaping 
through their veins, a thought that fired 
them with an indefinable, heroic purpose. 

“It is a signal,” said Roland hoarsely 
after a moment. 

“A signal indeed!” said von Meyer. “A 
mute, piteous appeal for help!” 







t 































. 














































- 




















\ 
















' * 
























. 


















" I 





Count Zito 


201 


XVI 

Count Zito 

ITH the appearance of the strange 
red light Roland’s depression van- 
ished. It was the stimulus he 
needed to condense his wandering 
resolution into action. As he watched it 
he knew what he would do. And he 
knew, too, that he could never have 
turned his back upon the silent castle 
with its possibilities of horror for the wo- 
man he loved. The burden of the adven- 
ture was now full upon him, and the 
exhilaration of it. He turned sharply to 
von Meyer. “There is nothing for it, Karl,” 
he said, “but to go on. I must see her to- 
night. Somehow I mean to enter that 
castle.” 1 

The Colonel had learned the meaning 
of that intonation of the Prince’s voice 
too well to interfere. “Then I go with 
you,” he answered quietly. 



202 


Roland of Altenburg 


But this was no part of Roland’s plan. 
He spoke with authority. “That is im- 
possible. Your place is here. Two 
would certainly fail where there is a 
chance that one may succeed. And 
some one must be here in case of need. 
If you hear nothing from me by morning 
you will know what to do. The thing is 
perilous.” 

Von Meyer was disappointed and 
showed it. “But I can’t let you risk your 
precious life that way. Think what it 
would mean if things should go wrong. 
You have a higher duty, Sire,” drawing 
himself up and saluting, “than this.” 

“Karl,” Roland answered very solemnly, 
“I recognize nothing higher.” 

“Then God be with you, my boy,” 
answered the other. 

“Don’t worry, old friend,” Roland said 
more lightly. “I shall win out. Remem- 
ber that you remain here until I return or 
until you are convinced that my plan has 
been discovered. Then act on your own 
judgment. Good-bye.” 


Count Zito 


203 


He was off, silently and swiftly. Mak- 
ing a detour to reach the road, he 
unhesitatingly approached the main en- 
trance. Upon reaching it he was ac- 
costed by the sentry, who, though a 
servant rather than a soldier, was pom- 
pous enough in his uniform. To his ques- 
tion the Prince replied, “Is it possible that 
you do not know me? I am Weinrich — 
Michael Weinrich, one of your master’s 
attorneys.” 

But the sentry was obstinate. “I do 
not remember you. I thought that 
Gorski had charge of his affairs.” 

“You deserve to be dismissed at once,” 
replied the Prince sternly. “I have been 
here often, sometimes with Gorski and 
sometimes alone. I shall report you to 
your master. A good memory is too im- 
portant in a position like this.” 

There was that in the Prince’s manner 
which terrified the sentry. He was con- 
vinced that he had to deal with a man of 
power and he dared not antagonize him. 

“I beg your pardon, sir, I’m sure,” he 


204 


Roland of Altenburg 


said. “The light was so bad that I could 
hardly see your excellency’s face. I re- 
member now quite well. I think his 
highness is still at dinner, but if your 
excellency will wait in the reception 
room, I am sure he will see you soon.” 

Not satisfied with the apology, he 
accompanied this important guest to the 
door and passed him on to the footman 
with the pompous command, “Show Herr 
Weinrich to the waiting-room. The Count 
has summoned him for legal counsel. 
See that he is' treated as his importance 
merits.” 

Introduced in this unexpected fashion, 
Roland found himself before he was 
aware in the reception-room of Castle 
Stanek. 

“I will inform the Count of your arrival,” 
said the footman deferentially. “He is 
just finishing dinner.” 

“By no means,” said Roland firmly. “I 
would not think of disturbing him at such 
a moment. I am in advance of the hour 
he mentioned. When it arrives I shall 


Count Zito 


205 


ring and have myself announced. Mean- 
while I shall remain here. Does your 
master still receive in the same room?” 

“Yes, your excellency,” the man replied 
with a low bow, “in the room just over 
this. When it pleases your excellency to 
be announced, a servant will be found in 
attendance in the anteroom of his high- 
ness’ study.” 

When the man was gone Roland made 
a hasty examination of the dingy apart- 
ment. For an instant he thought of the 
possibility of capture. The day when he 
must meet the Prince of Felzenbruck was 
near at hand, and if he should be detained 
here, his rashness would involve his whole 
country. But his blood was up. Nothing 
could stop him now. He listened just 
inside the door, but everything was 
silent. Then he left the room and pro- 
ceeded cautiously but rapidly along the 
hall. Roland had closely observed the 
course he had taken in reaching the 
reception-room and had mentally located 
it with reference to the window in which 


20 6 


Roland of Altenburg 


the strange red signal had appeared. He 
knew he had two flights of stairs to climb 
and that the room he longed to reach 
was toward the back of the castle. He 
was lucky in meeting no servants, though 
he barely escaped two encounters. After 
he succeeded in reaching the right floor 
the task was not so easy. The corridor 
twisted in a way that bewildered him, and 
the number of doors seemed endless. 
Guardedly he tried several of them, but 
discovered nothing. He traversed the 
entire wing of the castle without seeing 
an indication of the thing he sought. 
The place was dilapidated and the odor 
of dust and mold sickened him. By the 
light of a few dim lamps he could see the 
cobwebs which indicated that this wing 
was little used. Once it had evidently 
been gorgeously decorated, and traces of 
its former glory were still visible. But 
now the tapestries were torn, the painted 
panels broken, and the woodwork bore 
the scars of a hundred years. But this 
ruin only served to convince the Prince 


Count Zito 


207 


that he was on the right track. The wing 
was secluded and had lain neglected for a 
long time, but now it was manifestly not 
deserted. Some one was certainly housed 
in this lonely place or the corridors would 
not have been lighted, and from these 
very windows had come the strange red 
light which had shone across the clearing 
to the wood. 

Roland was lost in perplexity when he 
became aware of footsteps, and before he 
could make a move toward concealing 
himself a figure turned.a corner perhaps 
four rods distant and approached him. 
It needed but a glance to convince the 
Prince that here was Zito himself. There 
could be no mistaking that aquiline nose 
and square chin, that fierce mustache and 
erect, military figure. On the impulse of 
the moment the Prince turned to a door 
at the right, which he had opened without 
result, and quickly stepped within the 
dark room, which seemed bare of furni- 
ture. Zito had not seen the intruder — 
the light being squarely in his eyes at the 


208 


Roland of Altenburg 


moment. Now he walked straight to the 
door of the room where Roland had 
taken refuge and entered it. The door 
swung back against the figure of the 
Prince, effectually concealing him, and 
Zito passed on, leaving the door open to 
allow the light from the hall to illuminate 
his way. 

Roland stood breathless for an instant. 
Then he realized that what he had taken 
for an isolated apartment was really the 
beginning of a corridor, leading off at 
right angles from the hallway he had just 
left. Already the sound of Zito’s foot- 
steps as he proceeded down this passage 
was growing less distinct. It flashed 
across Roland’s mind that the profligate 
Count was entirely at his mercy! He 
would be doing the world a good turn, he 
thought, to put him out of the way. It 
was a temptation that he repudiated — a 
gleam of primitive passion which was its 
own justification. It passed as he swiftly 
and noiselessly followed the Count. 
Down a long, bare passage the latter led 


Count Zito 


209 


the way, and Roland saw that he had 
been deceived in the plan of the castle. 
Instinct told him that Count Zito was 
about to lead him to the end of his desire. 

The corridor seemed filled with a deep 
gloom, and Roland heard Zito mutter 
imprecations against the servants for 
negligence in leaving it dark. At the 
extreme end of the passage he paused 
before a door, took a key from his pocket 
and inserted it in the lock. Roland was 
now so close behind that it seemed as if 
his presence must be felt. He had formed 
a desperate plan of rescue. With Zito in 
his power and the prisoners close at hand, 
anything seemed possible. 



The Count’s Petition 


21 i 


XVII 

The Count's Petition 

B ITO swung the door back and stood 
dazed and bewildered in the sud- 
den light. On the table close to 
the window was a large lamp and 
behind it a curiously wrought fire-screen 
of red glass, which explained to Roland 
the glow he had watched. He took this 
in subconsciously, for instantly his eyes 
were fixed upon Katherine, who stood 
erect and defiant in the center of the 
room. To Roland she seemed too beau- 
tiful, too hopelessly inaccessible. He felt 
as though his heart would break with the 
need of her. 

Zito entered the room with an air of 
assurance. “Good evening, little one,” he 
said insinuatingly, “is this an illumination 
in my honor?” 

Roland could have knocked him down 
where he stood. It was all he could do 


212 


Roland of Altenburg 


to keep his wits together and remember 
that concealment was his cue. As Zito 
advanced into the room, he followed him 
lightly, his finger on his lips. Unfamiliar 
as he was with the castle, he knew not 
what danger he was running into; but 
luckily at the right of the door some 
ancient tapestry hung over an embrasure 
which served as a closet. Roland took 
refuge behind it, his eyes upon Katherine, 
compelling her to silence. She stood 
tense and frozen, except for a catch in 
her breath and her wide gleaming eyes. 
When Roland was safe in his hiding place, 
she coldly answered Zito’s question. 

“You enter my room again without 
leave.” There was scorn in her voice 
and in her manner. “I am in your power. 
A gentleman would consider that a 
reason for greater courtesy.” 

Arrogant as he was, Zito had a certain 
skill with women. It gave him confidence 
that he could overcome her antagonism. 
He brought it to bear upon her. “You 
do not realize, mademoiselle, what it 


* The Count's Petition 


213 


means to me to see you. In my eager- 
ness I forget even the ordinary courtesies 
of life. You have plunged me so deep 
into love of you that I cannot think. My 
mind is in a whirl. I know only that I 
must see you, that it is torture to be away 
from the light of your eyes.” 

Zito’s experience had convinced him 
that a man cannot plunge too suddenly 
into such a declaration. He realized 
that the very shock of it, the confidence 
that it indicates is a force that many 
women cannot resist. But for Katherine, 
indignantly alive to all that was overbear- 
ing and all that was sensual in the man, it 
had no charm. She turned away from 
him haughtily. 

“You will pardon me, mademoiselle,” 
he continued after a pause. “Surely you 
will forgive an offense that nothing but 
your own beauty could have caused. It 
makes me unconscious of everything but 
my love of you. Never have I seen such 
loveliness, mademoiselle. To kiss your 
hand, to make you turn kind eyes upon 


214 


Roland of Altenburg 


me, I would give this castle and all that 
it contains.” 

Miss Barrington flushed angrily under 
his gaze. “If you wish to please me, you 
have only to give me my freedom. Then 
anything you care to say I shall gratefully 
hear.” 

But her faith in human nature was not 
justified. “Gratefully!” the Count echoed 
with scorn. “Do you think gratitude is 
what I want? I would rather have you as 
you are than with such a dribbling senti- 
ment. You are handsome, my lady, with 
that curl of your lip. But you need not 
think it will help you. One way or an- 
other I shall win. It would be best for 
you to marry me to-morrow as I sug- 
gested.” 

To Roland behind the tapestry it was 
torture to listen. He would have given 
his fortune to shoot the Count as he 
looked at her, but he realized that it would 
be a folly that would endanger the wo- 
man he cared most to protect. The hard- 
est thing in life sometimes is to do nothing. 


‘ The Count’s Petition 


**5 


Zito’s manner changed. “Sit down 
here beside me,” he said softly, taking 
the girl’s hand and trying to lead her 
toward a chair. “You know, dearest, 
that I could not do anything to hurt you. 
I love you too well for that. Never 
before have I seen a woman whom I 
longed to make my wife. I have waited 
through long years for this moment, 
mademoiselle. You will not be cruel to 
me.” 

There was something seductive in his 
voice which made Roland grind his teeth, 
but Katherine remained haughtily erect. 
“Cruel!” she echoed, and the eyes she 
turned upon him were flaming. “It is you 
who are cruel, Count. If you were tell- 
ing me the truth you could not put me in 
this position. You would be more gener- 
ous to me. You could not make me suffer 
like this.” 

Her voice had in it a note of appeal 
which seemed to Roland the most piteous 
thing he had ever heard. But it left Zito 
unmoved. “If you will marry me to- 


21 6 


Roland of Altenburg 


morrow,” he insisted, “you shall not 
suffer. I can give you anything, made- 
moiselle. You will have wealth and 
power and the friendship of great men. 
I shall adore you. Everything you can 
ask will be yours before the asking. We 
will leave Stanek behind us. I have 
three castles more noble than this, far 
more beautiful than this. You shall 
choose between them.” 

“All this is quite, useless,” the girl an- 
swered with a beautiful dignity. “Many 
of the things you offer me are already 
mine. And I have one thing that is bet- 
ter than them all — a certain liberty of 
choice. Nothing that you can give me 
has any value in comparison to that. 
And there is no possible gift that I would 
accept from you. Be good enough to end 
this interview.” 

“You evidently forget,” and there was a 
sneer in the Count’s smile as he answered, 
“that you are a prisoner, charged as a spy 
with betraying the secrets of Felzen- 
bruck.” 


The Count’s Petition 


217 


Katherine grew pale. “I know that 
you have conjured up some accusation,” 
she said, “to get me in your power. I am 
not afraid. You have no proofs. When 
my friends learn that I have disappeared 
you will hear from our Ambassador at 
Berlin.” 

“Ah!” breathed the Count, “when they 
learn!” 

“It will be sooner than you think,” she 
answered. 

A look of deep cunning appeared for a 
moment in Zito’s eyes. “Mademoiselle,” 
he said slowly and incisively, “you do not 
know me. You are a woman and you 
talk like a woman. You have not felt my 
power.” 

Katherine did not flinch. “I am not 
afraid,” she repeated. 

Zito’s manner changed. “Why not 
face the matter squarely?” he said frankly. 
“The evidence against you, when known, 
is strong enough to convict you. You are 
in a desperate situation — you cannot real- 
ize how desperate.” 


2l8 


Roland of Altenburg 


“Then this charge is not known at the 
capital,” Miss Barrington said, the truth 
of the matter dawning on her. “It was 
simply a pretext to make me your 
prisoner.” 

Zito cursed himself for having spoken, 
but he was undaunted. “It was a pre- 
text,” he said frankly. “I wanted you 
and I sent men to Oberholtz to get you. 
What they learned almost convinces me 
that you really are a spy.” 

Roland’s temper, lashed and tortured 
as it was, could not endure more. He 
drew aside the tapestry to burst out upon 
the lying Count and throttle him. But 
the terror in Katherine’s eyes as they met 
his was enough to check him. Yet the 
sight of him obviously strengthened 
her. 

“You do not realize, mademoiselle,” 
Zito continued, “the strength of the evi- 
dence against you. Your visit to the cap- 
ital here has been investigated and it is 
known that you beguiled certain high 
officers of our army into telling you 


The Count’s Petition 


219 


secrets which their discretion should have 
taught them to keep to themselves.” 

Katherine laughed. “The things they 
told me had no relation to politics.” 

“It will be hard to prove that,” retorted 
Zito, “with the evidence we have to the 
contrary. Your dalliance with these 
officers is directly connected with your 
private conferences with the Prince of 
Altenburg in Oberholtz.” 

“Oh, this is too absurd,” interrupted 
Katherine impatiently, “I have never 
even seen the Prince of Altenburg.” 

“Do you venture to deny that you 
received the Prince in disguise at your 
hotel?” 

“I deny it emphatically.” 

“Then it may interest you to know that 
we can prove that he entered your apart- 
ments at half after nine on Thursday the 
ninth. You are foolish to deny a fact. 
It will work against you.” 

The day and the hour brought the 
truth home to Katherine in a flash. She 
turned white and looked involuntarily at 


220 


Roland of Altenburg 


Roland, where he stood half hidden by 
the tapestry, his finger on his lips and a 
light in his eyes. With an effort she 
gathered herself together and answered 
the Count, though her voice was low, 
“There is absolutely nothing in your 
charges. I beg that you will leave me.” 

“How can I, mademoiselle, when you 
madden me like this? Give me some 
hope for to-morrow. Tell me at least 
that you will be thinking of me after I am 
gone.” 

But Katherine was at the end of her 
patience. “Have you no pride?” she 
burst out. “Will you stay where you are 
not wanted? Have you lost even the 
semblance of courtesy? I thought I made 
it clear to you last winter that I never 
wished to see you again.” 

Zito was accustomed to such rebuffs 
and he often found it easy to overcome 
them. He looked at her long before he 
answered, while she flushed painfully. 
“How beautiful you are, mademoiselle!” 
he said finally, as though in a dream. 


The Count’s Petition 


221 


She threw herself into a chair before 
the table and covered her face with her 
hands. 

He seated himself at her side as he 
went on. “With you life would be 
heaven. All this would disappear — this 
foolish frivolity, this restlessness. I could 
dream then. I could really live. And 
you, dearest, for you, too, it would be 
different. I can surround you with such 
luxury that the cares of the world will 
never touch you. There will be perfume 
and music and all the diaphanous things 
of life. You shall not feel the weight of 
a single thought. You will be guarded 
and treasured as no jewel was ever pro- 
tected before. You will be one of the 
great ladies of Europe. Your title will 
be melody in your ears, and the homage 
of men will be grateful to you. Your 
estates stretch green and fertile through 
the loveliest sections of the land. Peas- 
ants will bend the knee to you and applaud 
as you ride by. A motion of your hand 
will be law to a multitude of retainers.” 


222 


Roland of Altenburg 


He rose and leaned over her pleadingly. 
“Do not throw it all aside for the sake of 
an old prejudice.” 

Katherine lifted her head from her 
hands and he looked into weary eyes. 
“Rather than marry you,” she said 
quietly, “I would endure imprisonment 
and death.” 

Roland in his concealment felt his heart 
bound. But Zito for the first time seemed 
depressed. He stood before her repulsed, 
uncertain, disheartened. And while he 
tried to think what he should do, a knock 
was heard at the door. Angered by the 
interruption, Zito flung it open and de- 
manded of the frightened footman, “By 
what authority do you come here?” 

“I beg a hundred pardons, your high- 
ness,” said the man, “but General Stanis- 
laus Waketchki has just arrived with a 
message from his royal highness, the 
Prince of Felzenbruck. The General 
bade me find you instantly, since he has 
but thirty minutes to stop.” 

Zito turned fiercely to Katherine. “I 


The Count’s Petition 


223 


will give you another chance to con- 
sider,” he said. Then he added softly, 
his eyes upon her, “Remember, made- 
moiselle, that I adore you.” 

He left the room, followed by the serv- 
ant, and locked the door behind him. 




































































1 . 












































































































































































- 












A Discovery 


225 


XVIII 

A Discovery 

ATHERINE rose and they stood 
confronted. The impulse to take 
her in his arms was almost irre- 
sistible to Roland, but something 
in her eyes held him back. 

“So you are Prince Roland,” she said 
very gravely. 

He threw back his head. It was hard 
to bear the reproach in her voice. “I 
have deceived you, I admit,” he said, 
“but there was no other way. I am not 
ashamed of it.” 

“You have put me in a false position,” 
she answered. 

“It could do you no possible harm,” he 
insisted, not without a certain exultation. 
“The danger was mine.” He checked 
himself, remembering her predicament. 
“No one could have foreseen such a 
disaster as this. It is too terrible. It has 



226 


Roland of Altenburg 


made you suffer. But it gives me the 
chance to save you, and that is worth 
everything.” 

Her breath caught in her throat, but 
she laughed a little. “It’s a queer kind 
of chivalry,” she said, “to imprison a 
woman in order to rescue her.” 

Roland could not even smile. He 
caught her hand in both of his. 

“Miss Barrington,” he said, and towered 
over her, “you believe me, don’t you? I 
would give my life for you this minute. 
I would not have put you in this posi- 
tion even to hear you say you loved me. 
Not even for that,” and he gave a quick 
sigh. 

The girl’s eyes softened as she looked 
at him. 

“You are here now,” he went on, “and 
I must get you out. I must get you out 
even if freedom for you means for me 
going back to my lonely prison. You 
will remember it of me, will you not, if it 
comes to such exile and wretchedness?” 

She had fallen into a chair and he took 


A Discovery 


227 


her by the shoulders with a certain 
ferocity. 

“You must remember it.” 

“I shall remember it of you v ” she 
answered quietly, “whatever happens.” 

A light came into his face. He turned 
away from her. “We must work then,” 
he said gayly. “We are prisoners to- 
gether.” He crossed the room and tried 
the door, but it would not move. Turn- 
ing into the embrasure in which he had 
been hidden, he searched for another 
exit. Failing in this and knowing that 
the bare room contained no other door, 
he examined the windows with minute 
care. They were guarded with vertical 
iron bars, very strong and firmly imbed- 
ded in the masonry. Looking through 
them, he could not make out a single 
foothold above the ground sixty feet 
below. No bays or balconies offered a 
refuge. On that side of the castle there 
was not even a vine. 

His search was swift, but so careful that 
it took time. At intervals there would be 


228 - 


Roland of Altenburg 


a quick little dialogue with Katherine, 
but he did not allow it to interrupt his 
work. Once her curiosity was too strong 
for her, and she asked him how he had 
reached the castle. 

“We caught your train on a special/’ 
he answered bluntly. “Von Meyer was 
with me. We found you gone and fol- 
lowed.” 

There was silence again while Roland 
began to examine the paneling. The 
apartment was large but bare. On one 
side stood an ancient rosewood bed upon 
a dais. A few chairs against the wall 
bore many marks of age. The floor, 
once highly polished, was now marred by 
a thousand scratches, and shabby rugs 
half covered it. Though some attempt 
had evidently been made to clean the 
apartment, the ceiling, on which painted 
figures were still discernible, was adorned 
with cobwebs. The lamp from which 
Katherine had improvised a signal light 
was a curious relic of bygone days, and 
the table that held it was decorated with 


A> Discovery 


229 


carvings that were sadly chipped and 
broken. 

“Where are your companions hidden?” 
Roland asked sharply. 

“If they have not been moved they are 
on the second floor of this wing, well 
toward the back.” 

The inspection went on with discour- 
aging monotony. The fireplace seemed 
to offer opportunities and Roland sounded 
it on all sides for a possible outlet. “Your 
prison seems secure,” he said frankly. 

“I have searched it in vain for a way of 
escape,” she answered. “The bars are 
too strong for me, and the door is heavy 
enough to defy a battering-ram.” 

Roland was still sounding the paneling. 
“Has Zito troubled you often as he did 
to-night?” he demanded. 

“Twice,” she answered with business- 
like directness. Then she weakened and 
her eyes filled. “It is too ghastly. He 
haunts me. I even dreamed that he 
came last night while I was asleep.” 

“Poor child!” said Roland tenderly. 


230 


Roland of Altenburg 


“Oh, it was only a dream,” she said, 
“but I can’t get it out of my mind. I had 
been signaling for hours and it seemed 
so useless. When I finally lay down I 
was tired and discouraged. I suppose I 
fell asleep, though it seemed only a 
moment before this terrible dream came 
to me.” 

Roland had stopped now and was 
watching her anxiously. “Tell me what 
it was,” he said softly. 

“I thought,” she went on, “that Count 
Zito entered the room through that bat- 
tered panel in the wall. He carried a dim 
lantern and by its light he approached 
the bed very silently. I could not move. 
And when I tried to speak, not a word 
would come. You know it is that way 
sometimes in dreams.” 

“Was that all?” Roland asked with 
relief. 

“Yes, except that he seemed to stand 
over me for a long time, terrifying me, 
almost driving me mad.” 

Roland turned toward the marred 


A Discovery 


231 


oaken panel which Katherine had indi- 
cated. 

“These ancient castles are curiously 
constructed,” he said. “I’ll try this 
again.” 

He tapped it here and there, fumbled 
with it, and presently it slid noiselessly 
back revealing within the wall an opening 
which extended downward into darkness. 

Katherine uttered a stifled cry of 
amazement. The Prince grew white. 
“Zito was really here.” 

He bent low and examined the door by 
the light of a candle which Katherine 
held for him, and noticed that the spring 
had been newly repaired. Taking the 
candle, he slowly explored the passage- 
way. The ladder led downward for ten 
steps into a stifling corridor. On the first 
landing many footmarks were discernible 
in the thick carpet of dust. Two narrow 
passages led off from this corridor, but 
Roland ignored them and continued his 
downward course. On each floor he 
found several little hallways leading in 


232 Roland of Altenburg 


different directions. It was evident that 
there was a complicated system of secret 
passages, embracing many wings of the 
castle. But still Roland went downward, 
seeking the end. His search, however, 
was in vain, for although he came upon a 
door at the lower end of the passage, he 
could not move it and it was clear that it 
had not been opened for decades. He 
retraced his steps to the landing where he 
had first observed the footmarks in the 
dust. Following them along a passage, 
he descended another ladder, and came 
by a somewhat tortuous course to a low 
door, in which he observed that a new 
spring had been fitted. 

Making sure that his pistols were ready 
for use, Roland bent back the spring and 
with the utmost caution peered through 
a narrow aperture. What he saw caused 
him to beat a hasty retreat, for not ten 
feet away, seated quietly at a table, was 
Count Zito himself. 


An Encounter 


2 33 


XIX 

An Encounter 

T REQUIRED but an instant for 
Roland to decide what to do. He 

turned again to the door, opened 

it and entered, quietly closing it 
behind him. Zito looked up from the 
papers he was examining, startled and 
alert. He rose quickly, ignorant of the 
identity of his antagonist, with the clothes 
of a peasant and the bearing of a prince. 

“Who are you, sir?” he said savagely. 
He took a step toward Roland, but 
stopped when he saw a revolver leveled 
at his eyes. 

“Hold up yqur hands,” the Prince com- 
manded in a low voice. “If you utter a 
sound, I’ll shoot.” 

Zito raised his arms and glared at Ro- 
land like a maddened beast. His lips 
were purple and there were purple 
blotches on his swollen face. “Well,” he 



234 


Roland of Altenburg 


said after a moment, and his cruel lips 
broke into a sickly smile, “we can stay 
here indefinitely, I suppose.” 

Roland advanced toward the Count, 
and with his revolver pressed close to the 
man’s breast, he removed one of Zito’s 
pistols and threw it into the corner of the 
room. The second one stuck in the case, 
and as the Prince fumbled with it, Zito 
brought down his raised fist with terrific 
force upon Roland’s head. The blow 
sent him reeling and he would have fallen 
if Zito had not grasped his arm in an 
effort to take away the revolver. Stunned 
and dazed as he was, Roland had pres- 
ence of mind enough to cling to the 
weapon and strike out with his full 
strength. The blow went wide of its 
mark and the two men swayed about the 
room locked in each other’s arms, strug- 
gling for possession of the revolver. Zito 
was the heavier, and as he bore Roland 
down in his huge, bear-like embrace, the 
Prince realized that his adversary was 
too much for him. He tried to turn his 


An Encounter 


2 35 


revolver on Zito, but the muscles of his 
wrist were powerless in the grasp of such 
a giant. 

The two were struggling before a huge 
stone fireplace. Chairs had been over- 
turned and the lamp had fallen with a 
crash. Except for this, the struggle went 
on in silence. Not a word was spoken as 
they clung to each other and fought for 
an advantage. Roland was wiry and 
agile and he had been well trained, but 
the brute bulk of his antagonist was a 
crushing weight against him. He grew 
breathless as he struggled to hold his 
own. But he kept his nerve, and not for 
an instant did he feel that his was a losing 
fight. Twice he found a chance to put 
in a telling blow, and each time he fol- 
lowed up his advantage. But Zito’s per- 
sistence was equal to his own. Roland 
could not down him. He could not make 
an impression upon the impetus of the 
Count’s bulk. Gasping, he fought for 
life against this mass of flesh which did 
not feel his blows. 


236 


Roland of Altenburg 


His active resistance had put Zito on 
the defensive, and the moment the lat- 
ter felt Roland’s weakening he grasped 
his wrist again and tried to turn his own 
weapon against him. Roland felt the 
barrel pressing his side and knew that 
everything depended upon his strength. 
With the desperation of a last chance he 
tried to jerk his hand free. At the same 
instant he managed to trip Zito, and both 
lunged forward toward the stone hearth. 

They fell crashing among the andirons. 
Roland was on his feet in an instant. 
Zito’s grasp had loosened and he lay 
quite still. The Prince looked down at 
him in bitter triumph, which changed 
quickly into a kind of horror. He de- 
served death if any one did, but Roland 
had no desire to be the avenger. He 
bent down and hastily examined him as 
he lay there, pale, harmless and repulsive. 
A bad cut on the back of his head showed 
that in falling he had struck one of the 
huge andirons. 

Roland was glad that he had not killed 


An Encounter 


2 37 


him, even by accident. Realizing that 
consciousness might at any moment re- 
turn, he looked about for something with 
which to bind his adversary. The curtain 
cords were the only thing visible that 
could be turned into service. The Prince 
examined them and found them soft but 
heavy. He tore three or four of them 
from the hooks and hastily bound the 
inert Count where he lay. Then he drew 
the body from the hearth, constructed an 
efficient gag with his handkerchief and 
started to return to the passageway. 

The paper that Zito had been reading 
caught his eye and he examined it. It 
proved to be a report from one of the 
men who had abducted the Americans. 
It was written from Oberholtz and 
acknowledged Zito’s order that the 
women should be brought to him without 
delay. The writer said that he had not 
been able to find anything in the conduct 
of the Americans which would establish 
the crime that Zito hoped to substantiate. 
He would make the arrest, however, and 


2 3 8 


Roland of Altenburg 


bring the prisoners to Stanek at the first 
opportunity. The frankness with which 
the charges against the girl were ignored 
would make the letter a valuable bit of 
evidence to the United States government 
in case of trouble. Roland folded it and 
placed it in an inner pocket. 


tfhe Escape 


2 39 


XX 


Ehe Escape 

ISS BARRINGTON uttered an 
exclamation of alarm when the 
Prince returned to her room. 

There was no time for explana- 
tions. He had been in a tussle, he said, 
but he was not hurt. 

“Oh, I was afraid,” she said, dwelling 
on the word with a kind of intensity. 
“You were gone so long.” 

He took her hands and looked down 
into the troubled eyes. “You did not 
think I could leave you?” he said, and 
there was something very gentle in his 
voice, mixed with something very strong. 

Her eyes dropped, but he made her 
look up and answer him. “No,” she said 
simply, “it was not that.” 

It was not much — her words, her look — 
but it was enough to make him feel ex- 
ultant. It created a new world — a world 




240 


Roland of Altenburg 


in which nothing was difficult. He could 
have carried her easily through the castle 
and out into the night, fearless of opposi- 
tion. He could have dared any danger 
or suffered any defeat. Nothing was im- 
portant now but this. 

“I think I have found a way,” he said. 
His voice was steady, but there was a 
light in his eyes. “You will be brave, and 
you must be very silent. There is still 
danger, but together we can face it.” 

“I am not afraid,” she said, “if only you 
will not leave me.” 

It was almost too much for his self- 
control, steeled as it was by the perilous 
business in hand, but he only said, “I 
shall not leave you.” 

Still holding her hands in his, he told 
her what had been done and what was 
still to do. 

“But you have not forgotten Ethel and 
my aunt?” she asked as he stopped. “We 
can’t leave them behind — you don’t mean 
that, do you?” 

To Roland they were part of a shad- 


' The Escape 


241 


owy background. Everything was dim 
but the girl who stood before him. It was 
with an effort that he recognized their 
existence. 

“They shall not be deserted/’ he said 
with decision. “But you are the one 
under suspicion and most in danger. We 
have no time to lose. This is our only 
chance. You must come. I know you 
will trust me.” 

There was a mist in her eyes as he 
turned and led her gently toward the 
hidden door. She went without a word, 
and when she was safely on the ladder 
Roland turned to put out the lamp and 
followed, closing the little ,door in the 
wall. By the light of the flickering can- 
dle they made their way through the dim 
and dusty corridors. It seemed very 
close and intimate, this thing that they 
were doing together. It gave him an 
ecstatic feeling that she was dependent 
upon him alone. Once she shivered at 
the gray gloom of the passageway, and 
he carried her soft hand to his lips. It 


242 


Roland of Altenburg 


was hard to keep his mind upon the work 
he must do. 

When they opened the door to Zito’s 
apartment they found him still uncon- 
scious. The room was dimly lighted by 
the lamp which hung from the ceiling. 
Softly Roland entered, and with a whis- 
pered word to Katherine noiselessly shut 
the door behind her. He felt her tremble 
— he imagined he could hear the throb- 
bing of her heart. 

“Courage,” he whispered reassuringly, 
“there is little to fear.” 

They crossed the room and Roland 
quietly unlocked the door and passed out 
into the hallway. Not a sound could be 
heard and he beckoned her to follow. 
Pausing every little while to hear if 
any one was approaching, they slowly 
crept down to the hallway and then to 
the floor below. The passages and stair- 
ways formed a labyrinth, but the Prince’s 
mind had been alert when he explored it 
and he knew the way. They reached the 
main floor and safety seemed well within 


‘ The Escape 


243 


their grasp when they heard footsteps 
ahead of them. 

Roland seized Katherine’s arm with a 
grip that made her wince. “Quick!” he 
said in a commanding whisper. “This is 
the way.” They entered an open door 
into what seemed to be a library. The 
windows were covered with heavy cur- 
tains. In an instant they had concealed 
themselves safely behind these hangings. 
The footsteps grew louder until finally 
they stopped in front of this very room. 
In the pause that followed, the darkness 
did not permit the Prince to see things 
very clearly. With his pistols ready for 
use, he drew closer within his shelter and 
waited. 

Soon a man in the uniform of Felzen- 
bruck cautiously entered the room, fol- 
lowed and evidently commanded by a 
taller and more powerful figure. The 
latter spoke to the* first in a whisper and 
they advanced silently toward the table. 
As they came nearer, Roland saw that a 
pistol held against the back of the soldier 


2 44 


Roland of Altenburg 


was the force that controlled him. It was 
a puzzling pantomime until the shadowy 
figures came within the circle of feeble 
lamplight and he discovered with a great 
thrill that the commander was von 
Meyer. 

“Where is the other woman?” Roland 
heard him ask quietly. 

“Follow me,” the sentry replied in a 
frightened voice. 

“You die if we are caught,” the Colonel 
said, and turned toward the door. 

Roland had remained quiescent, fear- 
ing that an unexpected sound would 
startle his friend and give the rebellious 
prisoner a chance to escape. As they 
turned to leave the room, he emerged a 
little and uttered the Colonel’s name in a 
breathless whisper. It had an electric 
effect, but not for a second did the old 
soldier relax his vigilance. Addressing 
an abrupt command to his prisoner, they 
both wheeled toward the window where 
Roland stood in the shadow. Evidently 
the Colonel had not recognized his chiefs 


' The Escape 


245 


voice, for as he turned he drew a second 
pistol from his belt and with the left 
hand raised it toward the swaying 
curtains. 

The Prince came into the room. “Put 
down your gun, Karl,” he said quietly. 

“My God! is it you?” exclaimed the 
Colonel in his robust voice. 

“Not so loud,” warned Roland, drawing 
aside the curtain and revealing Miss Bar- 
rington. “Take her out and I’ll find the 
others.” 

“They are already safely out of Stanek 
and concealed in the wood.” And with a 
fierce command to the sentry, the Colonel 
motioned them to follow. He led them 
through dark halls, down a narrow stair- 
way, and at last out through a small door 
at the rear of the castle, the guide unlock- 
ing it with a key that he took from his 
pocket, and carefully locking it behind 
them. Making a detour to keep well 
within the shadow of a line of heavy 
evergreens, they hurried across a clearing 
and entered the thick woods. Not until 


246 


Roland of Altenburg 


then did Katherine feel free. The strain 
of the night’s excitement reacted upon 
her and she drew a sobbing breath. At 
the sound of it Roland caught her hand 
and guided her reassuringly. “Be brave/' 
he said very tenderly, “it is almost over." 

It was too brief a moment before they 
reached the clearing in the woods where 
Ethel and her aunt were cowering. They 
were given no time for rejoicing, but were 
hurried on steadily toward Szlapka’s little 
house. It was but a short distance away, 
and they reached it without misfortune. 
Roland roused the peasant woman and 
made Katherine throw herself down upon 
the bed, while Szlapka took care of the 
others. 

“You will have but a moment for rest," 
he whispered. “We are not safe even 
now." 

Weary as she was with anxiety and 
excitement, she protested against delay. 

“We can wait only for horses," he 
agreed. “Everything depends on haste. 
But the worst is over. And the best," 


The Escape 


247 


he added, with hungry eyes upon hers, “is 
still to come.” 

He released the soft, firm little hand he 
had been holding and turned away. His 
confidence oozed away a little and a 
depressing anxiety succeeded it. He 
knew too well that the most perilous 
part of the journey stretched dark . and 
ominous ahead of them. 





. - '■ ' . '■! 






* 




* 


' 




On the Highway 


249 


XXI 

On the Highway 

HILE the women rested, the Prince 
and von Meyer planned a cam- 
paign, easily agreeing that the 
simplest method was the best. 
The alarm might be given, they knew, 
at any moment. Their only chance was 
to cross the line before the pursuit could 
be organized. The allegiance of Szlap- 
ka, who was immediately sent in search 
of horses, was secured by means of 
bribes, though the mere sight of beau- 
tiful ladies in distress was enough to 
make him waver. Ramaski, the sen- 
try, was coerced into helping them by 
fear of the Colonel’s pistol on one side 
and the Count’s vengeance on the other. 
The promise of money and a lucrative 
position in Altenburg gave zest to his 
change of front. 

It was decided to make a dash along 




250 


Roland of Altenburg 


the public highway and trust to Provi- 
dence for a means of passing the guard at 
the boundary. Szlapka’s covered wagon 
was requisitioned, his two horses made 
ready, and by three in the morning the 
little band had started on its desperate 
journey. The boldness of the plan might 
mean its success. 

Von Meyer and the three women occu- 
pied the vehicle, with Szlapka as driver. 
Beside him on the box was the sentry. 
Roland had exchanged clothes with 
Ramaski, and in the uniform of -the Fel- 
zenbruck cavalry rode beside the wagon 
on a horse that Szlapka had somewhat 
brusquely borrowed from an unwitting 
neighbor. A note accompanied by a sum 
of money was relied upon to appease his 
wrath in the morning. 

Szlapka knew every inch of the lonely 
highway, and even in the darkness of the 
early morning he now and then urged the 
horses into a run. An occasional peas- 
ant’s cart was encountered, but no special 
attention was paid to the hurrying wagon 


On the Highway 


251 


when its military escort was noticed. 
The peasantry for miles around was 
accustomed to Zito’s caprices, and any- 
thing strange was set down to his credit. 
Many were his tenants, and the feeling of 
Szlapka toward his landlord was the feel- 
ing of them all. They hated him with a 
deadly intensity, engendered by years of 
oppression and tyranny. So they did not 
molest the furiously driven wagon. They 
considered themselves lucky to escape its 
thundering wheels. 

To Roland as he rode along, anxious, 
determined, unswerving in his purpose, 
there was but one point of joy in the little 
caravan, Now and then he could see 
Katherine as, her head on her aunt’s 
shoulder, she dozed with the confidence 
of a little child, or as she sat up startled 
by the frantic rush of the horses. 

Once the horses, already terrified by 
their driver, broke into a run and got 
beyond Szlapka’s control, but the Prince 
dashed on ahead, caught them by the 
bridle, and succeeded in quieting them. 


252 


Roland of Altenburg 


In the fear that they would give out 
before the barrier was reached, he 
ordered a slower pace. The Altenburg 
border was a good four hours away from 
Szlapka’s hut, and Roland was in a quan- 
dary as to the advisability of attempting 
to cross it in broad daylight. A stop was 
made and the tired horses were allowed a 
few minutes’ rest as the sun showed itself 
on the horizon. The Prince held a brief 
council of war with von Meyer, and it 
was decided to rush the sentries. The 
Colonel drew his pistol and stood ready 
to sell his capture dearly. The men on 
the box were again impressed with the 
consequences of recapture and Roland 
had no fear that they would fail him. 

On and on the horses ploughed, almost 
unmanageable in their excitement. The 
road was now alive with peasants, and 
several times a collision seemed inev- 
itable. Once a cart was overturned, but 
the peasant uttered no word of protest. 
He merely thanked the Virgin that 
Count Zito had not .seen fit to run him 


On the Highway 


253 


down instead of his cart. As they ap- 
proached the border, the peasants with 
their produce for the markets grew much 
more scarce, the city being now far away 
and the sun high. In another half-hour 
they would be safe in Altenburg or — but 
Roland recognized only one outcome to 
the adventure. He meant to cross the 
line at any cost. 

Von Meyer and the two men were 
given last instructions in regard to their 
duty in case of a skirmish, and then 
Roland rode on alone to see if the coast 
was clear. A quarter of a mile of open 
road lay inside the boundary line and it 
was hopeless to think of surprising the 
sentries. They would have time to watch 
the coming wagon and prepare for its 
reception. Roland therefore instructed 
Szlapka to hold in the horses as best he 
could and advance as unconcernedly as 
possible. At a distance Roland could see 
that their appearance was’ the signal for 
excitement at the little brick lodge, but 
evidently only eight or ten men could be 


254 Roland of Altenburg 


assembled. He realized that their escape 
had been discovered and the guards 
warned. But the little caravan drove on 
as if no interruption were expected. Ro- 
land, riding in advance, saluted the ser- 
geant who commanded the little guard. 

“Good morning, sergeant,” he said un- 
concernedly, adding with a wave of his 
hand toward the wagon, “I am escorting 
some friends of Count Zito’s over the 
border.” 

“And we were waiting for you,” re- 
sponded the sergeant as he fingered a 
telegram. Detailing two men to stand at 
the horses’ heads, he bade Roland sur- 
render. “The wires were quicker than 
your horses,” he added with a laugh, “and 
I am instructed to detain you here for 
further orders. It will go hard with you, 
Ramaski. A soldier’s pay is poor enough, 
but to a few of us honor is still worth 
more than money. I arrest you as a 
damned traitor.” 

To Roland this speech was more 
amusing than to the real Ramaski, who 


On the Highway 


2 55 


was shaking on the box. It gave the 
Prince a cue in regard to the sergeant’s 
weakness. He realized that the odds 
were as a thousand to one against him, but 
he kept his head. The barrel of his 
revolver was under his military cape. 
Addressing the sergeant in a voice which 
only he could hear, for his men were ten 
paces behind, he said, “Come and take 
me if you can, but first let me warn you. 
My revolver is ready and the instant you 
order your men to touch us I fire.” 

The sergeant turned white and his 
mouth curved in a weak smile. “A pretty 
speech,” he said, “but what becomes of 
you? You are now covered by six rifles.” 

“Do you think I am in a position to be 
afraid? My life is not worth a cent. I 
might as well die here as to be placed 
against a wall and shot to-morrow. The 
only difference is that now you die with 
me, my dear sergeant. We go hand in 
hand. I never liked a lonely journey.” 
He leaned forward confidentially and 
urged his horse nearer the wagon. 


25 6 


Roland 0 /Altenburg 


“What do you say, sergeant? Do we die 
now, or do you send the Count a little 
message to say that we crossed the border 
before you received the wire? I see the 
paper is still damp.” 

He was now abreast of the wagon 
horses, and as the sergeant involuntarily 
glanced at the message, Roland rose in his 
saddle and brought his whip down upon 
their flanks with terrific force. With a 
snort of pain the horses, already nervous, 
plunged and reared and bolted at a mad 
pace down the road. The men at their 
heads were of no avail. Nothing could 
have stopped their furious rush. Down 
the road they tore and across the border 
to Altenburg soil. Some fruitless bullets 
were sent after them, and instantly there 
was confusion among the guards. Three 
of them raced after the runaways in an 
aimless endeavor to be doing something. 
Another started to mount a picketed 
horse, but bungled the work of untying 
him. The others stood stolidly waiting 
for orders, realizing that they were pow- 


On the Highway 


2 57 . 


erless to molest the wagon now that it 
had crossed the border. 

Roland had spurred his horse to follow, 
but in the midst of the confusion the 
sergeant was cool. He kept his wits 
about him and fired his revolver straight 
at the Prince. The bullet struck his 
mount and, with a lunge high in the air, 
the tired, faithful horse fell back on his 
side with Roland pinned under his weight. 
Another bullet quieted the horse, and the 
Prince of Altenburg, though unhurt, was 
overpowered and disarmed. 

“I shall adopt your suggestion about 
the telegram,” the sergeant sneered, “but 
I shall add that it arrived in time for the 
capture of the traitor.” 

But Roland’s anxiety was not for him- 
self. Until it disappeared in the distance, 
he followed with brooding eyes the sway- 
ing wagon as it dashed madly over the 
perilous road. 





















' « 








I* 




































* 


. 















































V' 





































































* 











































% 


\ 




* 














* 








1 

\ 











A Prisoner of War 


259 


XXII 

A Prisoner of War 

OLAND submitted to being bound 
without a protest. The escape 
of the others made up for any 
indignity, and he smiled with 
contentment. 

“I like your assurance, Ramaski,” the 
sergeant said, “but it won’t be a laughing 
matter when you get back to Stanek. A 
fine target you’ll make in the morning.” 

Roland had no fear of such a death. 
“You are quick to jump at conclusions, 
sergeant,” he said simply. “I am neither 
a deserter nor a traitor. I am not even a 
subject of Felzenbruck.” 

“And I suppose your name is not 
Ramaski,” answered the sergeant, “and 
you only meant this little episode as a 
joke.” 

“My name is Roland, and I am the 
reigning Prince of Altenburg.” 




i6o 


Roland of Altenburg 


“Charmed, I am sure,” said the sergeant 
with a low bow, and then he roared with 
laughter. “Perhaps you are also Kaiser 
Wilhelm and the Pope of Rome. My 
poor lodge has never before been so 
honored.” 

“I am glad you appreciate the distinc- 
tion,” said the Prince with some bitter- 
ness. 

“So highly, your royal highness,” the 
sergeant with mock deference took him 
up, “that I cannot think of keeping you 
in these poor quarters. You shall return 
at once to Stanek, where luxuries worthy 
of your rank await you. Count Zito will 
no doubt upbraid me for not waiting until 
he could send the state coach; but per- 
haps your royal highness may prefer 
even one of our poor horses to a long 
delay.” 

Roland loftily ignored his heavy irony 
and hurried the preparations for the 
return as much as he could. He was 
soon mounted and on his way back to 
Stanek under guard of the sergeant and 


A Prisoner of War 


261 


three soldiers. The journey was made 
for the most part in silence, the sergeant 
wondering whether his prisoner was a 
madman or a prince, and Roland berating 
himself for his capture. He had no fear 
that harm would come to him. Once he 
had established his identity, Zito could 
do nothing; but he chafed under the 
delay. Only a few days remained before 
his appointment with the Prince of Fel- 
zenbruck, and it was an interview that he 
could not afford to miss. He knew that 
his absence just now would not create 
special alarm, for he had given out that 
he might be away for several days, and 
his eccentric habits were well known. 
Since he came to the throne he had more 
than once disappeared, sometimes going 
in disguise among his subjects, sometimes 
pursuing the hunt, sometimes making 
longer journeys to gratify a whim or to 
convince himself that he was not a 
prisoner. But he had always kept his 
word to his people, and if he should fail 
to appear at so important a moment the 


26 2 


Roland of Altenburg 


result would be disastrous. He could 
hear the outcry that it would cause; for 
the cabinet would not be able to keep it 
secret, and he shuddered at the thought 
of the exposure. For Katherine it would 
mean much unpleasant gossip, and for 
himself the open criticism of the con- 
servatives, who were never slow to attack 
him, and the veiled distrust of his adher- 
ents. It would be said that he was un- 
equal to the crisis and had disappeared 
for the express purpose of throwing the 
responsibility upon his cabinet. But for 
the moment there was nothing to do but 
return to Stanek with as good a grace as 
he could muster. 

By noon the towers of Zito’s castle 
could be seen above the trees, and Ro- 
land was conducted at once into the 
Count’s presence. It was the room in 
which he had left him bound and uncon- 
scious, and he enjoyed the limp look of 
him and the unbecoming bandages on his 
hard jaw. 

“What! another vagabond?” asked Zito 


A Prisoner of War 


263 


without looking up, and swearing volubly 
with a certain nonchalant enjoyment. 
“It is the sixth that has been brought 
here this morning. With such service as 
you scoundrels give me, the prisoners I 
seek are probably at the other end of the 
earth.” 

The sergeant quickly explained the 
episode at the frontier, and added with a 
laugh that the prisoner claimed to be the 
Prince of Altenburg. Zito had paid but 
little attention to the unkempt and weary 
captive in the Felzenbruck uniform. But 
at the mention of Roland’s name he gave 
him one searching look. The surprise 
and joy that awoke in him did not escape 
Roland, though the Count quickly con- 
trolled his traitorous countenance The 
sergeant apologized abjectly for his fail- 
ure to capture the women, and withdrew 
at Zito’s command. 

“Since you recognize me, Count,” said 
Roland, “I beg that you will permit me to 
return to Altenburg without delay.” 

But Zito’s astonishment had given way 


264 


Roland of Altenburg 


to anger and he was by no means ready 
to release his prey. It was a pleasant 
little revenge for the adventure of the 
night before, and he found it an agree- 
able pastime to prolong the torture. The 
more powerful the victim the more cheer- 
ing it would be to play with him. 

“I know his royal highness of Alten- 
burg well enough,” he said with wicked 
eyes, “but I never saw you before last 
evening.” 

“Look closer, then, for it will fare badly 
with you if you do not recognize me.” 

“Do you think me a baby to be caught 
with foolish lies?” replied Zito sharply. 
“His royal highness of Altenburg is 
interested in the escape of these prison- 
ers, I know, but he is much too clever a 
man to be caught in such a trap.” 

“He is clever enough to know what he 
wants,” said Roland, with a little smile, 
“and now and then he gets it.” 

The effect of the cynical curve of the 
Count’s lip was somewhat injured by the 
ludicrous swelling. “You think that I 


A Prisoner of War 


265 


shall really believe,” he said, “that his 
royal highness of Altenburg is foolish 
enough to allow himself to be caught in 
this country in the guise of a Felzenbruck 
soldier? He would know too well that he 
could be shot as a spy.” 

“There would be a certain amount of 
noise, Count,” he said quietly, “before 
that could happen. I am at least clever 
enough to know that you will not place 
your own neck in danger.” 

“And who, pray, would make the 
noise?” Zito replied. “Certainly not I 
nor my men, and as for you — well, you 
would be too far away to be heard. No 
one knows you are here, and if you were 
to disappear no one would be the wiser. 
Who would think of looking for Roland 
of Altenburg in Stanek? And you 
couldn’t be found if a search were made.” 

For the first time Roland realized that 
the situation was not without its dangers, 
but he did not waver. A dry, sharp laugh 
broke from him, but he did not speak. 

“Have you not committed a slight in- 


266 


Roland of Altenburg 


discretion in coming here?” Zito con- 
tinued. “You break into my castle like a 
thief in an attempt to rescue two women 
who are proven to be spies.” 

“Spies!” exclaimed Roland in a heat. 
“So you capture them with all legal forms 
and deliver them up at once to the 
proper authorities. Perhaps it is custom- 
ary in Felzenbruck to issue warrants to 
kidnap prisoners on foreign soil. It may 
be that his royal highness, Prince Fried- 
rich, will see things differently when the 
facts are made known to him.” 

“It is a lie,” Zito broke in. 

But Roland went on remorselessly. 
“Perhaps, too, it is the custom in Felzen- 
bruck to transform a private castle into a 
prison for public offenders and coerce the 
guilty with offers of release and rewards 
into a distasteful marriage.” Zito rose 
at the word and struggled visibly to mas- 
ter his temper. “Perhaps this is convic- 
tion and sentence by due process of law. 
I am not familiar with your courts.” 

Zito had gained control of himself in a 


A Prisoner of War 


267 


way. He laughed unpleasantly. “You 
are playing a very pretty hand,” he said, 
“but I hold a better one. The whole 
story is a lie.” 

“You may as well realize,” Roland con- 
tinued tranquilly, “that there are two or 
three things that I happen to know. I 
overheard your graceful blandishments 
last night. And I have read the diplo- 
matic report written by the man you sent 
to Oberholtz. It will have a certain 
value as evidence.” 

Zito dragged furiously at the bell-cord, 
but Roland deftly took him up. “Don’t 
bother,” he said, “it will be quite useless 
to have me searched. The paper is safely 
across the border. It shall be carefully 
preserved in our historical museum.” 

“You seem to have seen a great deal 
during your visit to my castle,” Zito said 
sardonically. He dismissed the servant 
who answered the bell. “You may know 
more than I could wish, but you will 
remain silent. It would do you no good 
if the world knew the story of the love- 


268 


Roland of Altenburg 


lorn princeling who was caught playing 
with fire and proposed to make war 
because he got burned a little.” Zito 
laughed boisterously. “No, you will stay 
here as my guest until you surrender Miss 
Barrington to me. Then you will be 
escorted to the frontier and the matter 
will be closed. With one word you can 
secure freedom. Before night you shall 
be escorted to your own country. But I 
must be sure first that you will do what I 
ask. The conditions I impose are simple.” 

Roland smiled in disdain. “They may 
be simple, Count,” he said, “but they are 
impossible. I prefer your hospitality.” 

“I shall not take your answer as final,” 
said Zito, nettled at the man’s indiffer- 
ence. He summoned the guard and Ro- 
land was escorted to a comfortable suite 
in the upper part of the old structure. 
He knew the character of the man into 
whose power he had fallen and realized 
that Zito would not stop at anything to 
gain his end. His exultation had van- 
ished. He felt blind and impotent. 


The Jailer 


26 9 


XXIII 

The Jailer 

HE locked doors and the tread of 
the guard in the hall were Roland’s 
only reminders that he was a pris- 
oner. His apartments were dingy, 
but they were furnished with a certain ele- 
gance. The dinner that wasbrought to him 
was excellent, and it was well served. He 
was treated with deference by the servants, 
and the guard did not conceal his admi- 
ration for the man who had ventured to 
defy the invincible Zito. During the 
afternoon he had been unmolested, and 
despite Zito’s ominous threats he was not 
worried. Whatever his own fate might 
be, he could be patient in the belief that 
the Americans were safe in Altenburg. 
Yet when he tried to take comfort in it, 
he could see again the wild rush of the 
horses and the swaying wagon as they 
disappeared into freedom, and he won- 
dered how it had all ended. 



270 


Roland of Altenburg 


It was late that evening before the 
Prince was disturbed. He was trying to 
interest himself in a German novel that 
he had found, when the door opened and 
an orderly entered. He saluted and in- 
formed the Prince that his highness, 
Count Zito, requested the honor of an 
interview in his library. Roland’s reply 
was more emphatic than dignified, and he 
took up his book again as the discon- 
certed soldier left the room. It was but a 
few minutes before the door w&s again 
opened and Zito himself appeared. His 
eyes showed that he had been drinking 
heavily and was in a dangerous mood. 
All his politeness had vanished and he 
made no effort to conceal his thoughts. 

“So you disobey my commands,” he 
began, advancing unsteadily toward the 
Prince. “You think because you are well 
treated that I will submit to your imperti- 
nence. I’ll have you know that I am 
master here and that I mean to have my 
way. If you do not bring that girl here 
to-morrow, you will pay for it.” He 


The Jailer 


271 


smiled unpleasantly. “And you will 
not enjoy the price. It is for you to 
choose.” 

“The novelty of your threats is begin- 
ning to wear off, Count,” Roland said 
quietly. “I have told you definitely that 
I shall send no message whatever to the 
lady in question. Do you realize that I 
am Roland of Altenburg? What kind of 
a coward do you think I am? If I am not 
safely over the border by noon to-mor- 
row, I warn you that it will be you who 
will pay.” 

Zito stumbled into a chair and his face 
wrinkled into a puzzled expression. Evi- 
dently he had something on his mind. A 
crumpled bit of paper fell from his hand 
and Roland wondered if it had anything 
to do with his aggressiveness. He rose 
and paced idly about the room. 

“Let us face this matter squarely, 
Count,” he said. “Miss Barrington has 
already given you her answer. There is 
no power on earth which would persuade 
her to come back.” 


272 


Roland of Altenburg 


Zito looked up and watched the Prince 
closely, wondering if he were weaken- 
ing. 

“Write to her to come to you/’ he 
answered hoarsely. “Say you are in 
trouble. She will come if you ask her. 
Once she is on our soil, I can manage the 
rest.” 

He rose and fumbled about on the table 
for pen and paper, and while his back was 
turned Roland picked up the dispatch 
and read it. It changed the face of 
things for him absolutely. “Roland of 
Altenburg taken by our troops at bound - 
ary line,” it ran. “Have him brought 
here at once. I hold you responsible if 
harm comes to him while in your prov- 
ince. Schlefel, by order of Friedrich, 
Prince of Felzenbruck.” 

To Roland the message meant more 
than his release. It told him that Karl 
von Meyer had arrived at Oberholtz and 
notified the authorities. It told him 
above all that the Americans were safe. 

“I will send for a telegraph blank,” Zito 


The Jailer 


273 


said. “Write the message and you shall 
be free.” 

“Here is paper,” Roland said. “We 
can use the back of the dispatch you 
dropped.” 

It was a moment before Zito grasped 
his meaning. Then he seized the mes- 
sage with a cry of dismay and tore it to 
bits. 

“How soon will you execute his royal 
highness’ orders?” Roland asked. “When 
do we start for the capital?” 

Zito’s brain was clearer now, and he 
looked at him with anything but friendly 
eyes. “You need not think that you can 
escape that way,” he said. “A hundred 
such messages would not help you. Do you 
think I mean to let you live to tell of it?” 

There was something in Zito’s voice 
that convinced Roland that he meant 
what he said. His threats were more 
than mere bluster. It was evident that 
he was desperate, that he was ready for 
any wild deed that offered the smallest 
chance of escape from exposure. In spite 


274 


Roland of Altenburg 


of his unsavory reputation, Zito had 
always maintained at court his position of 
honor. There was a limit to his audacity. 
No scandal was allowed to grow emphatic 
enough to endanger his influence. He 
held to the power that was his with a 
tenacity that was made up largely of 
cowardice. Roland knew of this trait in 
him, and he saw that instead of influ- 
encing him now toward caution, it was 
making him desperate. The Count was 
ready blindly to commit the greater crime 
in order to conceal the lesser one. Ro- 
land, looking at him, knew it was a battle 
to the finish. Yet he smiled with no loss 
of self-confidence and said lightly, “But 
fortunately you will be able to report to 
his royal highness. You have not forgot- 
ten, I fancy, that he will hold you re- 
sponsible.” 

Zito looked at him sharply. “He can- 
not hold me responsible for a man I have 
never seen. It was Ramaski, the serf, 
who was arrested at the boundary.” 

“Friedrich is not a fool, Count. It is 


The Jailer 


2 75 


possible that he may make inquiries about 
the man who claimed to be Roland. 
Your servants were present when I gave 
you my name.” 

“But they are my servants,” Zito said 
meaningly. “They know too much to 
talk indiscreetly. You will disappear and 
any questions which might be asked will 
go unanswered. This is a dingy old 
castle, but it is useful. Things are pretty 
well systematized here. I give you an 
hour to decide. If you wire Miss Bar- 
rington as I request, and give your word 
never to mention what has occurred in 
Stanek, I will wire Prince Friedrich that 
you are my honored guest.” 

“And if I refuse?” Roland interrupted. 

“I have given you the alternative.” 
There was something grim and defiant in 
the face he turned toward Roland. “It is 
neatly arranged and no one will ever 
know. What is your answer?” 

“This is my answer, you dog.” Roland 
no longer cared to control his anger. 
Picking up his riding glove from the 


.27 6 


Roland of Altenburg 


table, he brought it sharply across the 
Count’s face. Zito was on his feet in an 
instant, but his legs were still unsteady 
and he realized that he could do nothing 
in a personal encounter. 

“Do you really think that I would put 
Miss Barrington in your power? Do you 
imagine that I came to Stanek for that? 
I would endure imprisonment and your 
most ingenious torture to keep her away. 
At the worst I would even endure your 
friendship.” 

The Count looked shrunken and old 
in his chair. Roland had thrown discre- 
tion to the winds. He seemed a giant in 
his strength, in his determination. “I 
shall do nothing,” he went on, “and when 
this is over I will not be silent. You 
may dispose of me as you like. I am not 
afraid of death.” 

Zito made another attempt to stand, 
and with some difficulty succeeded in 
reaching a bell, which he rang. Then he 
turned to Roland with malice in his 
furtive eyes. 


‘ The Jailer 


277 


“I am sorry to part with so agreeable a 
guest,” he said, “but you have made your 
own choice. It is a principle of mine to 
supply my visitors with everything they 
desire.” 



A Royal Progress 


279 


XXIV 

A Royal Progress 

n - ” T WAS just at this time that a group 
of horsemen swept through the 
forest and, turning into the ap- 
proach to the castle, stopped ab- 
ruptly before the main entrance. Two of 
the aides dismounted at the instant they 
drew rein and stood ready to assist their 
leader in alighting, but he sprang to the 
ground without deigning to accept their 
assistance. He was tall and carried him- 
self with a distinction that set him apart. 
He wore the uniform of a Felzenbruck 
general, and it was with the bearing of a 
man accustomed to obedience that he 
asked to be shown into the presence of 
Count Zito. 

The servant, awed though he was by 
the distinguished air of the man, hesi- 
tated to violate the instructions of his 
master. “Excellency,” he said, “the 



28 o 


Roland of Altenburg 


Count has given orders that no one shall 
be admitted without his permission. If 
you will kindly send in your card ” 

But the officer did not care to accept 
dictation. He brushed by the obsequious 
servant with superb indifference. “Take 
me at once to your master,” he said. 
“My business cannot wait. Announce 
Field Marshal von Klener.” 

The name was important enough to 
silence opposition. The man fell back 
abashed and conducted him at once to 
the chamber where Zito and the Prince 
awaited a response to the Count’s ring. 
The Field Marshal followed instantly 
upon the servant’s announcement, and 
Zito’s anger at the intrusion softened into 
an obsequious welcome. 

“You do me an unexpected honor,” he 
said with more than a hint of malice in 
his voice and in his salutation. 

Von Klener responded stiffly, but he 
wasted little time upon the disconcerted 
Count. “I have come,” he replied, “as 
an emissary from his royal highness, Prince 


A Royal Progress 281 


Friedrich, to extend to your guest the 
assurance of his most cordial hospitality.” 

Turning to Roland, who stood proudly 
indifferent to the course of events, he 
bowed low. “It is an honor,” he said, 
“to welcome your royal highness to the 
Principality of F'elzenbruck. I trust that 
every possible courtesy has been extended 
to you, Sire. Undoubtedly,” with a little 
curl of the lip, “Count Zito has done 
everything for your royal highness that 
lies in his power. But my royal master, 
Prince Friedrich, feels that Castle Stanek 
is remote. At the capital he can give you 
entertainment' more in accordance with 
your rank. He begs, therefore, that you 
will allow yourself, Sire, to be conducted 
thither with all speed. He is sending a 
special train and a suitable escort. With 
my aides I came on ahead as a kind of 
advance guard to solicit your royal high- 
ness’ consent to this arrangement.” 

Shabbily dressed as he was, Roland 
wore unmistakably the grand manner. 
He stood perfectly still, accepting the 


282 


Roland of Altenburg 


tribute of this deference as his due. 
When von Klener paused, he said, and 
his voice had never been so flexible and 
so richly modulated, “I thank you, Mar- 
shal. No man has ever had a more dis- 
tinguished escort. I trust you will extend 
to his royal highness my deep apprecia- 
tion of his kindness. It has come at the 
right moment. Owing to the rather 
peculiar circumstances of my arrival, I 
found myself constrained to prolong the 
visit to my honorable friend” — he smiled 
in the pleasantest way at Zito — “longer 
than was consistent with my engagements 
and the somewhat turbulent state of cer- 
tain issues. It is perhaps as well that my 
royal cousin has given me this oppor- 
tunity. I shall accompany you in the 
morning with great pleasure. Though, 
of course,” he added with a ceremonious 
bow to the Count, “I regret deeply that I 
am thereby depriving myself of the soci- 
ety of my thoughtful and accomplished 
host. I can hardly describe to you, sir, 
his solicitous care for my comfort.” 


A Royal Progress 


283 


Von Klener took his cue from the 
Prince. “I am rejoiced to learn, Sire,” he 
replied, “that you have nothing to com- 
plain of. It would indeed be a disgrace 
to Felzenbruck if you were not accorded 
every possible honor.” 

During these amenities Zito had re- 
mained quiescent, furtively watching his 
friend the enemy and looking desperately 
uncomfortable. When von Klener finally 
turned to him and said, “We are obliged 
to trespass upon your hospitality, Count, 
for the night. I hope that this may not 
put you to great inconvenience,” it was 
with difficulty that Zito rose to the emer- 
gency. His assent was almost a grunt, 
but he finally assured the Field Marshal 
that the castle was at his disposal. He 
made an excuse to retire in the necessity 
of giving directions for their entertain- 
ment. 

When the two men were left alone, 
Roland’s gratitude to the Field Marshal 
remained unspoken until he had satisfied 
his anxiety about the fate of Karl and the 


284 


Roland of Altenburg 


Americans. The soldier informed him 
that they had reached Oberholtz in 
safety, and that von Meyer had imme- 
diately begun negotiations for the Prince’s 
release. The matter was explained to 
the minister from Felzenbruck, who in 
turn had communicated with Prince 
Friedrich. Knowing well that Zito was 
capable of any desperate act, his royal 
highness had sent von Klener on the 
mission of rescue. To the turmoil that 
lay behind this peace there was no allu- 
sion. Both were conscious of it, but both 
ignored it. 

Early the next day the journey to the 
capital was begun. Von Klener had 
taken the precaution to provide a guard 
for the Prince during the night. He had 
seen, too, that he was supplied with more 
appropriate clothing than the battered 
Felzenbruck uniform which he discreetly 
avoided mentioning. Zito’s coach was 
employed as far as the railroad, and with 
its distinguished-looking escort it made a 
clatter in the country side. 


A Royal Progress 


285 


At the railroad, where the special train 
awaited him, Roland was greeted by more 
officers, by the mayor of the capital, who 
presented him with the freedom of the 
city, by his own minister to Felzenbruck, 
by two members of the cabinet and sev- 
eral nobles of the realm. He was sur- 
prised at the formality of his reception 
and rather aghast at its publicity. Yet 
he was ready of speech and there was a 
certain grace in his acceptance of it all. 
As soon as he could release himself from 
the crowd after the train had started, he 
took the Altenburg minister aside to 
inquire into the significance of this wel- 
come. “How much do they know,” he 
asked, “of my reasons for being here?” 

“Nothing at all, Sire,” was the reply. 
“The secret has been well kept. It is not 
known even to the members of Prince 
Friedrich’s cabinet. I myself set this plan 
in motion to cover it up with a little blus- 
ter. I feared that something might be 
discovered that would be unpleasant to 
your royal highness. It was easy to man- 


286 


Roland of Altenburg 


age because of your recent announcement 
that the conference would take place this 
week.” 

Roland drew away from him with hasty 
commendation. He had forgotten the 
issue, forgotten the decision that must be 
made. It confronted him again sharply. 
And he was no more ready to face it than 
he had been a week ago. In the rush of 
his adventures everything had been lost. 
His mind had been blank to affairs of 
state, to questions of policy. Now he 
must take them up, and it seemed heavier 
work than fighting Zito and facing death. 

The Prince realized that his minister 
had planned matters for the best, atid 
submitted with as good cheer as he could 
assume to the ordeal of traveling in state. 
His valet was on the train, and Roland 
was soon dressed in the uniform of the 
Third Felzenbruck Hussars, of which he 
was honorary colonel. Among his deco- 
rations he wore the red eagle of Felzen- 
bruck which Prince Friedrich had given 
him at the time of his coronation. 


A Royal Progress 


287 


Every station on the road to the capital 
was decorated with the flags of the two 
countries, and crowds had collected to see 
the distinguished visitor. Sometimes 
Roland said a few graceful words, some- 
times he merely bowed his acknowledg- 
ments, but always the enthusiasm of the 
crowd was flattering. It would have been 
exhilarating enough if Roland’s thoughts 
had not been far away from the cheering 
people. It was easier to face danger than 
applause. He had been happier with 
Katherine in the dark woods and peril in 
every shadow than now that it was he 
whom every one delighted to honor. 
Through it all her smile haunted him — 
the tenderness of it, its wistfulness. At 
times the thought of it brought his mind 
back with a start to Friedrich. What 
should he do, what could he say except 
that he would obey the will of his country- 
men and marry the Princess Theresa? 
He was bound more firmly than if his own 
word had been given — bound by the 
honor of the dead. 


288 


Roland of Altenburg 


There was a deafening roar as the train 
pulled into the capital, and Roland was 
greeted with an enthusiasm so sincere 
that it touched and quieted him. Yet he 
felt that it was binding him with fetters 
that were harder to break than those of 
steel. 

The Prince of Felzenbruck met him in 
person and escorted him through long 
rows of soldiers to the state coach. The 
city was in gala attire and in several shop 
windows, as they drove along, Roland 
caught a glimpse of lithographs of himself 
and the Princess Theresa. There had 
been a fatherly warmth in Friedrich’s 
greeting, and now, as they rode side by side 
through the cheering multitude, Roland 
detected behind his reserve a kind of pro- 
prietary pride which he vaguely resented. 
He wondered what would happen if he 
should stab it with the truth. Gay and 
vivid as the city was, it seemed a blur to 
him. 

When at length the coach followed the 
troop of horsemen through the huge pal- 


A Royal Progress 


289 


ace gates and stopped before the main 
entrance, he became aware that the mem- 
bers of the cabinet apd certain nobles of 
the court were waiting to welcome him. 
Behind them were some ladies-in-waiting, 
and in the center of the group Roland 
suddenly saw the slender little Princess 
with her piquant face and her fascinating, 
whimsical eyes. There was another shout 
and a waving of handkerchiefs as Roland 
advanced, and kneeling, kissed her hand. 

























. 
















. 






















































- 


































■ 












- t 

































































































* 










































‘ The Brazilian Orchids 


291 


XXV 

The Brazilian Orchids 

FTER the state luncheon, Roland 
was invited to review his own 
troop of hussars, and the remain- 
der of the afternoon was so occu- 
pied with official duties and a public 
reception that he had no time for con- 
versation with either Prince Friedrich or 
the Princess. Even when he did talk with 
them all mention of Zito was omitted. 
At the luncheon he noticed that Theresa 
wore a pendant of emeralds and diamonds, 
the colors of Altenburg. She thanked 
him for having sent it, and Roland was at 
a loss to account for its presence. Then 
it occurred to him that his minister to Fel- 
zenbruck had done the proper thing and 
provided a gift in the absence of one from 
the Prince himself. 

It was after the long dinner that even- 
ing, as the men sat over their cigars, that 




ig2 


Roland of Altenburg 


the question of the boundary dispute was 
first introduced, and then it was Roland 
himself who broached it. He was ex- 
pressing his gratitude to Prince Friedrich 
for the warmth of his welcome, and the 
Prince had replied that the visit would do 
much to strengthen the friendship be- 
tween the two peoples. 

“We are already the best of friends,” 
Roland replied, “and as I drove through 
that generous crowd to-day I wondered 
how there could ever have been a wran- 
gle about boundaries.” 

“The commission could easily have set- 
tled it,” Friedrich replied, “if you and I had 
been members. But you must not think 
of the matter at present. It will be simple 
enough to adjust, with the maps before us 
and our belligerent advisers safely locked 
up. I was young myself once,” he added 
with a significant glance toward the door 
through which the women had gone. 
“You and Theresa must not allow affairs 
of state to interfere with your own more 
weighty consultations.” The old Prince 


The Brazilian Orchids 


^93 


chuckled so over his little joke that he 
failed to notice Roland’s preoccupied 
manner, and' later when the men went 
into the drawing-room he took the Prince 
by the arm and led him toward the Prin- 
cess. She was the center of a group of 
young officers, who saluted and withdrew 
at the approach of the Prince of Felzen- 
bruck. 

“Theresa might show you my new 
orchids,” he said, with a significant glance 
at Roland. “I have just received some 
fine specimens from Brazil, and the con- 
servatory is very quiet.” 

“I should like to see them,” Roland re- 
plied, as he looked somewhat helplessly 
after the Prince of Felzenbruck, already 
in retreat. There was a noticeable silence 
through the rooms as Roland offered his 
arm to the Princess Theresa, and together 
they walked slowly toward the conserva- 
tory. As they passed Lady Montague, 
the wife of the British minister, they could 
not help hearing her remark that they 
were made for each other. 


294 


Roland of Altenburg 


Once in the conservatory, the Brazilian 
orchids were forgotten. Each was won- 
dering what manner of person the other 
was and what the future years would 
mean. Roland wished himself well 
beyond an unpleasant interview, and 
Theresa, little Theresa, was fearful about 
the outcome. For a time neither spoke, 
and nothing broke the silence of the vast 
conservatory except the ripple of the 
miniature cascade before them. Roland 
cast a furtive glance at the girl beside 
him and met her eyes looking curiously 
at him. They laughed in genuine amuse- 
ment. 

“I feel as if we were very good friends, 
Roland,” the Princess said. “We are 
almost strangers, but it seems as if I had 
known you always.” 

“I shall not abuse your trust,” Roland 
replied gravely, and then with a little 
smile, “it would be strange if a man and 
a woman who are about to be married 
were not at least friendly.” 

“We were very young when we were 


‘ The Brazilian Orchids 


295 


betrothed,” the Princess went on, “and 
sometimes, you know, that sort of thing 
doesn’t end happily. Cousin Hans, for 
instance, had never seen the Princess of 
Terse until a fortnight before they were 
married, and I suppose you know ” 

“Yes, I know about them,” Roland 
replied. 

“That is what I mean about our being 
friends. We know each other better 
than most people who — I can’t quite 
express it ” 

“Better than most people who are — 
shall I say ordered to love one another? 
Is that what you mean?” 

“Yes,” she said, and then quickly added, 
“you are not offended, are you?” 

“Of course not,” Roland answered. “I 
am glad that you can think of me as your 
friend. It’s a very good basis to work 
on — friendship.” 

“Of course in our station we can’t ex- 
pect to love one another — that is, love the 
way we might some one whom we had 
seen much of and ” 


296 


Roland of Altenburg 


“But later, after we have seen much of 
each other, love might come,” said 
Roland. 

“But if it took a long time, the woman 
might have grown old and unlovable. It 
would be dreary waiting.” 

“And the man might be unlovable, too,” 
said Roland. And they again lapsed into 
silence. 

Theresa rose with a sigh and threw a 
handful of crumpled rose leaves into the 
pool, smiling as the goldfish rose to the 
surface. 

“They are happy,” she said, “because 
they know nothing different. They have 
never been unfortunate enough to know 
freedom.” 

Roland looked at her in silence for a 
moment and the beauty of the picture 
gave him a thrill. The note in her voice 
had struck into his heart. It sef him 
wondering. It made him realize suddenly 
how selfish he had been. His overwhelm- 
ing self-pity had kept him from giving 
more than a passing thought to the little 


The Brazilian Orchids 


297 • 


Princess. He had been told that she was 
ready to do her father’s bidding; he had 
thought of her as one who cared for 
nothing but the conventions of court life, 
to whom a marriage ,of convenience was 
but a part of the plan. Now she stood 
before him, a young woman of flesh and 
blood, one of more than ordinary beauty 
and grace, with unsuspected possibilities 
of tenderness and of misery, and for the 
first time his eyes were opened to the 
fact that she, too, had a heart of her own. 
Through the depths in her voice and the 
mists in her eyes he saw that their posi- 
tions were identical: each had had just 
enough freedom to be able to estimate 
the value of the life at court. It was 
worse than he had feared. They were 
betrothed and yet she, too, carried some 
one else in her heart. 

Princess Theresa turned away from the 
pool with a sigh and stood before Roland 
as if she had something to say. But she 
did not know how to begin. The Prince 
rose and took both her hands in his, look- 


298 


Roland of Altenburg 


ing down into her eyes. At the touch of 
his hands she stepped back, but quickly 
recovering herself she returned the pres- 
sure of his fingers and looked up at 
him with a brave smile. The instinctive 
recoil and a fleeting look in her eyes told 
Roland more than she could have ex- 
pressed in words. Before such courage 
as hers he felt himself to be a despicable 
coward. 

“I shall try to be worthy of your friend- 
ship, little one,” he said. “You are braver 
than any soldier I ever knew.” 

“I don’t understand,” she said quickly, 
turning crimson. 

“It is I who have been blind,” he 
answered. “I didn’t know that you were 
different from the others. Come, let us 
face the matter squarely. Tell me.” 

There was so much of friendliness and 
sincerity in the man’s voice that the Prin- 
cess pressed his hand in grateful response 
and her eyes grew dim. “I am prepared 
to do my duty,” she said, with a swing of 
the shoulders that made her look taller 


The Brazilian Orchids 


299 


than she was, “and you are ready to do 
yours.” 

“I am ready to devote my life to you,” 
Roland replied. 

“I believe you. I know I can trust 
you,” searching his eyes rather wistfully. 
“But all the time you would be thinking 
of some one else.” 

Roland started to interrupt her, but she 
checked him. “You see I know all about 
you,” she said with a queer, sad little 
smile. “If I could not see you I could 
hear of you, and you would be surprised 
at the extent of my knowledge.” 

Roland was bewildered. How could 
the Princess Theresa know of things 
which he had only confided to Karl von 
Meyer — things that he had even hesitated 
to think about because they seemed like 
treason? 

“I hope the things you heard did not 
put me in such an impossible light?” Ro- 
land asked. 

“On the contrary,” the Princess con- 
tinued, “the more I heard of you the bet- 


300 


Roland of Altenburg 


ter I liked you. At first I had really 
hated you and conjured up all sorts of 
things that you might do. I rebelled 
many times at the thought of marrying 
you.” 

Here she hesitated as if she feared she 
had gone too far, and asked, “Oh, you’ll 
forgive me, won’t you? I didn’t mean to 
speak that way, you know, and I can con- 
fide in you even ” 

“Even if the confidence is against my- 
self.” He took her up quite positively. 

“It was about that time that I met — 
that I came to know my cousin Albert. 
We had grown up together and even as 
little tots we played together, and quar- 
reled, and made up, and were happy. He 
was older than I and when my betrothal 
to you was announced it made him 
wretched.” 

“And you?” asked Roland. 

“I was no more than a child then. I 
didn’t understand it all — at least it didn’t 
occur to me that it would make any differ- 
ence between Albert and me. As I grew 


"The Brazilian Orchids 


30 


older I learned what I had done. I found 
myself pledged to a man I had hardly 
seen. I loathed the mention of your 
name. But when I rebelled they called 
me a child and sent me to the Convent of 
Ste. Marie for a whole winter. The sis- 
ters taught me the meaning of the word 
duty. It’s a hard word to learn. Have 
you ever thought of it?” The corners of 
her mouth showed that it had not been 
easy, and Roland felt like kissing them 
into happiness. “When I came away,” 
she went on, “it was with the determina- 
tion to forget Albert and do as my father 
wished. But it meant suffering and un- 
happiness. They would not even allow 
Albert to write to me. He was made an 
attache at St. Petersburg, and I tried to 
put him altogether out of my mind. But 
one day as I was walking in the garden 
alone, he suddenly appeared. He was 
home on leave and he had bribed the 
servants to let him into my part of the 
garden. I tried so hard to make him 
go away forever, but all the time my 


3D2 


Roland of Altenburg 


heart was really crying to him to take 
me." 

“Poor little child!” Roland said tenderly 
as she stopped, frightened at her courage. 

“I thought I had put him out of my life, 
but when he appeared again I found it 
wasn’t possible. You must have struggled 
in the same way.” 

It pulled Roland up to realize that she 
could think of his unhappiness while he 
had thought so little of hers. “Yes,” he 
said, “I have struggled.” 

“And for you it is all the harder,” the 
Princess went on. “Miss Barrington is of 
a different class, while Albert ” 

“What do you know about Miss Bar- 
rington?” asked Roland in frank amaze- 
ment. 

“I told you I knew all about you,” she 
laughed. “I have had a terrible curiosity 
about you, and your courage has given 
me courage. I knew that we were fight- 
ing the same fight, except that for you 
the sacrifice is greater.” 

Roland sank down on a bench and 


T he Brazilian Orchids 


303 


buried his face in his hands. For once 
he thought first of her. “Why is it,” he 
groaned, “that your life should be ruined 
for the sake of these politicians? It is not 
right. I cannot let you suffer like that.” 

A light came into Theresa’s eyes. 
“Could it be arranged?” she asked. 
“Would it be too wicked if *we should 
break it all off and follow our own hearts?” 

“It must be arranged,” Roland said 
decisively. “It would be wicked not to 
break it off. Nothing is worth while ex- 
cept happiness.” 

“I am almost beginning to love you,” 
said Theresa, as she smiled through her 
tears. 












































' 



































































• 

























































































































\ 

























The Court of Last Appeal 305 


XXVI 

The Court of Last Appeal 

n T WAS at the moment when Ro- 
land and the little Princess reached 
their friendly understanding that 
they were interrupted by the en- 
trance of Prince Friedrich, who was fol- 
lowed at a distance by several officers. 
He greeted them with his jovial laugh. 

“I have come to interrupt your love- 
making,” he said. “The merriment 
rather halts for want of your presence, 
cousin. If you will wind up the evening 
by leading Theresa through a quadrille, 
we can retire and allow our guests to go 
their way. I confess to a desire for a 
quiet chat with my children over the fire.” 

Friedrich’s good humor was in striking 
contrast to Roland’s anxiety, and it 
brought him sharply to a realization 
of the difficulties of the task he had 
accepted. He gave his arm to the Prin- 


3' ° 6 


Roland of Altenburg 


cess and followed Prince Friedrich into 
the brilliant salon. There was a flutter 
among the guests, for Roland’s eccentric 
aloofness had made him a sufficiently 
romantic figure, but a set was quickly 
formed and the dance that followed had 
a beautiful, stately dignity. Opposite the 
little Princess was a stalwart, good-look- 
ing officer in cavalry uniform whom Ro- 
land recognized as Prince Albert of 
Bernitz, a second cousin of the sovereign. 
A kind of glowering somberness in him 
suddenly enlightened the Prince as to the 
identity of Theresa’s “Cousin Albert.” It 
seemed to make the way easier for him, 
as Albert was a man of rank and distinc- 
tion and immensely popular with the peo- 
ple. Roland managed after the dance to 
find an opportunity to give the other his 
hand with a few words of such sincere 
friendliness that Prince Albert was sur- 
prised into a certain warmth. 

It was not long before the royal hosts 
and their distinguished guest withdrew, 
leaving the others to dance and chatter 


The Court of Last Appeal 307 


as they liked. Roland had made a dis- 
tinctly favorable impression, and the talk 
was chiefly of him and the suspicion of 
mysterious adventures that had brought 
him there. A few of the wiser shook 
their heads over the approaching alliance, 
but the more popular opinion was that 
Roland would make his way with the 
little Princess as he had made it with 
others. There was a dominant magnet- 
ism in him which no one could escape. 
Prince Albert found himself easily bored 
by this talk and remembered a pressing 
engagement at his club. He had endured 
the ordeal bravely and those who had ex- 
pected him to show his resentment more 
plainly were disappointed. He was so 
open and manly about it all, so frank in 
showing his admiration of Theresa, yet so 
considerate in his attitude toward her, 
that the sympathy of the court went out 
to him. 

Prince Friedrich, meanwhile, had led 
“his children” into his private library and 
told them that now they must talk to 


308 Roland of Altenburg 


him. He was an old man, he said, but he 
loved youth and all that it meant and he 
did not intend to be shut out of their 
happiness. “It means everything to me,” 
he added, “and you will not mind a senti- 
mental old man, will you?” 

No peasant’s cottage could have pre- 
sented a more domestic picture than this 
one before the massive fireplace in the 
library of the royal palace of Felzen- 
bruck. Prince Friedrich had taken a 
comfortable armchair and at his feet on 
a low hassock was the Princess. Roland 
walked about the room for a . time, and 
then, to the amusement of the others, 
threw himself on the bearskin rug before 
the hearth. Each' was occupied with his 
own thoughts and it was some moments 
before a word was spoken. The crack- 
ling fire cast a rosy glow over the three 
figures before it. They had turned off 
the lights and except for the fire and an 
occasional flare from Prince Friedrich’s 
long German pipe, the room was in 
darkness. 


\ The Court of Last Appeal 309 


“I count on you, Roland,” Prince Fried- 
rich said at length, “to' look after my 
little girl. I shall feel safe in leaving her 
with you.” 

“But you will be here to look after her 
yourself for many years to come,” Roland 
protested. 

“I hope so, I hope so,” the older man 
said, softly stroking the girl’s hair. “I 
would like to see her happiness and 
share in it.” 

“You are responsible for all my happi- 
ness, dearest,” the little Princess said as 
she leaned her graceful head against 
her father’s knee. “I have never told 
you so enough. It is so hard to say 
those things if one really means them. 
I am afraid I have disappointed you 
many times,” turning her wistful gray 
eyes up to his, “but you were a dear. 
You said never a word. You were always 
as gentle as could be.” 

The old Prince continued to stroke her 
gleaming dark hair softly. He said noth- 
ing, but his eyes were moist. 


3 IO 


Roland of Altenburg 


“It makes me wretched to disappoint 
you again,” she went on. “I don’t know 
how I can do it. You know I wouldn’t, 
don’t you, if it didn’t mean a very great 
deal to me?” 

“My little girl,” the old Prince said ten- 
derly, “you have never disappointed me. 
You couldn’t do it if you tried.” 

“Oh, but this time you won’t say that.” 
She laughed a little. “It’s a heavy mat- 
ter. Roland and I have been talking it 
over and we need your help.” 

“You may count on me,” he answered. 
“I am for you every time.” 

“You dear!” she said. But she could 
not face it. She covered her face with 
her hands and cried a little quietly at his 
knee. “I am afraid,” was all she could say. 

Roland had watched her with a kind of 
fascinated sympathy. He felt almost that 
he was intruding upon something that he 
should not see, yet he accepted it hun- 
grily. He had been silent. There was 
nothing that he could say. But now he 
took up the burden. 


1 The Court of Last Appeal 3 1 1 


“We want your advice and help, Sire,” 
he said. “And we shall follow it. We 
are ready — both of us — to carry out your 
plan if you think best. But it means the 
sacrifice of your daughter’s happiness. If 
she cared for no one else, I think I could 
make her love me. It might not be so 
hard.” He had risen and he looked doton 
at the quivering little figure. “But there 
is some one else. Prince Albert of Ber- 
nitz has had better opportunities than I. 
She thinks too much of him to be happy 
with me.” 

“Oh, but that is not all, father dear,” 
said Theresa, looking up with tearful eyes. 
“With Roland, too, there is some one else.” 

Friedrich drooped in his chair, wearily, 
all the animation gone from his face. It 
meant much to him, this project that he 
had dreamed over and worked for and 
built up. He hated to have it turn fruit- 
less in his hands. All the joy was sud- 
denly gone out of it. He looked at 
Theresa almost angrily, but she was so 
gentle and she knew so little what she 


3 12 


Roland of Altenburg 


was doing. What children they were, he 
thought, what foolish children! 

It was several moments before he 
spoke, and to Roland his silence was 
worse than vituperation. 

“So this is the end of it all,” he mur- 
mured finally, his chin upon his breast, his 
eyes upon the smoldering logs. “I thought 
I had built upon a rock. I thought you 
would love him, little girl, and I knew he 
could not know you a week without loving 
you. It seemed as though it would adjust 
everything and give you power and peace 
and happiness.” 

Theresa turned toward him pleadingly. 
“Don’t take it that way, dearest,” she 
said. “You break my heart.” 

He brushed her aside gently and rose 
to confront the young Prince. When he 
spoke to him his voice was stern. “This 
alliance means so much more than a silly 
love-affair,” he said. “You should know 
that, cousin. You are unworthy of your 
inheritance if you can sacrifice its inter- 
ests to a trivial sentiment.” 


The Court of Last Appeal 313 


“I am sacrificing its interests,” Roland 
retorted, “to secure your daughter’s hap- 
piness — and my own,” he added honestly, 
“which is not worth considering. I should 
be unworthy of my inheritance if I could 
immolate a woman.” 

“There is no question of that,” he 
answered with a touch of contempt, “it is 
a schoolgirl’s fancy. You could cure her 
of it in a week.” 

“Father,” broke in Theresa, “you don’t 
know what you are saying. I can’t give 
up Albert. It would be too miserable. 
It means everything to me. You would 
not have me sad all my life, would you, 
father?” 

There was something in her voice as 
she uttered the word that unnerved the 
old Prince. He visibly weakened. But 
he waited in silence for Roland’s reply. 

“You ask too much of my vanity, Sire,” 
he said, ignoring the little Princess. “I 
have seen Prince Albert and he is not un- 
worthy. I doubt if I could cure her so 
easily. But I am ready to try.” He 


314 Roland of Altenburg 


looked down at her as she sat there 
pathetically relaxed, and added, “It would 
be a pleasure to try.” 

The word he used was not one to ap- 
peal to Theresa. She could not be silent 
under it. “Father, dear,” she said, “don’t 
you see what you are doing? You will 
not give me to a man who is thinking all 
the time of some one else. He would 
have married me without a word if I had 
not guessed the story. I accused him of 
it and he finally admitted it. He can’t 
help it, dearest. I know, because I have 
tried so hard to forget Albert.” 

She was kneeling on the stool now 
with her hands on her father’s arm, and 
he leaned down and kissed her on the 
forehead. “Little girl,” he said, “you 
don’t know about these things. Roland 
could make you happy.” 

But little Theresa had a will of her own 
and she knew what she wanted. “Dear- 
est,” she pleaded, “do you remember the 
stories you have told me about my 
mother? Do you think you could have 


‘ The Court of Last Appeal 315 


forgotten her all of a sudden just because 
it was wise?” She threw all her affection 
into the smile she gave him. 

“My little Theresa,” he said somberly, 
“what an imp you are! You would have 
your way if nations went to pieces. You 
could bully your old father out of his last 
penny and his pet ambition. I see you 
are going to do what you like. But it was 
for you, Theresa, that I planned it all.” 
His voice broke. “I hate to give it up.” 

The little Princess looked very grave. 
Having gained her point, she knew 
where to place the responsibility. She 
rose with graceful dignity, took the hand 
of the old Prince in both of hers and 
kissed it solemnly. “Sire,” she said in a 
new voice, “you are wise. You know 
what is best. I shall do whatever you 
command.” 

Roland chuckled inwardly, but the old 
Prince took his daughter in his arms and 
turned to him with the half-broken 
words, “I cannot have my little girl 
unhappy.” 


'• m\ 



























































































ll'#r li'- tv •' . ’ - ill 

» 



























■ 


















• ■ ■ , 







- 






Problems 


3*7 


XXVII 
Problems 

T WAS with complex emotions that 
Roland retired at last to his own 
apartments. His exultation had 
something of melancholy in it, his 
happiness a tinge of envy. But a letter 
in a handwriting he had seen but twice 
was given him and drove every thought 
from his mind. He read it in a daze, 
stunned by the words, “We are return- 
ing to America. We sail from Cherbourg 
in three days.” It was only after a second 
reading that he comprehended that it 
contained anything else. It was too in- 
credible that she could desert him at such 
a crisis, after all they had been through 
together, after all that he had dreamed 
and sacrificed. 

“I hate to go,” Miss Barrington wrote, 
“without saying good-bye, but it seems 
the best way. It may make things 



Roland of Altenburg 


3i8 


easier for you. And for me no words 
could express my gratitude to your 
royal highness, so why should I stay?” 
There were some conventional good 
wishes for him and the Princess Theresa, 
which he hurried over. It was all stiff 
enough, yet it was not without warmth 
underneath, and he thought he detected 
a certain regret. The thing that caught 
at his throat was the statement that 
Stanley Lockwood would meet them at 
Cherbourg. 

Roland himself could not leave Felzen- 
bruck for another day at least. Too 
much was at stake to permit the scanty 
courtesy of a hasty farewell. Yet it was 
evident that something must be done and 
quickly. Miss Barrington would not 
leave Oberholtz until the next evening. 
After a moment’s thought he sat down 
and wrote to her, begging her with some 
formality to postpone her departure until 
after the drawing-room which would be 
held four days later. Steamers had been 
missed in the past, he said, why not now? 


Problems 


3i9 


He made the wish sufficiently emphatic 
to be a kind of command and he hoped 
that she was familiar enough with the 
etiquette of the occasion to take it in that 
way. He was desperate. He did not 
care how he kept her— only that she 
should stay. 

When the note was sealed he wrote a 
telegram of instructions to Colonel von 
Meyer, but in neither message was the 
little Princess mentioned. He knew well 
that the sensational news of her betrothal 
would spread through Altenburg only too 
swiftly. Summoning Hugo, he gave him 
instructions about taking the train for 
Oberholtz at four in the morning and 
delivering the note to Miss Barrington in 
person. 

It was but little sleep that the restless 
Prince secured that night. He rose 
early, wishing himself far on the road to 
Oberholtz with his political mission well 
over. The task of dealing with it was 
distasteful. There was only one thing 
that he wanted to do, and delay was irk- 


3 2 ° 


Roland of Altenburg 


some. After an aimless stroll in the 
palace gardens, which was not without its 
pang of regret that the little Princess had 
so quickly forgotten him, he summoned 
the minister from Altenburg in consulta- 
tion. To him he related the story of the 
change in his fortunes and asked what 
effect the nullification of the betrothal 
would have upon the people of Felzen- 
bruck. 

Accustomed as he was to conceal his 
emotions, the minister could not quite 
avoid betraying his surprise. But he 
gathered himself together quickly and 
rose to the question. “If the Princess is 
happy,” he said, “they will accept the dis- 
appointment. They adore her, Sire. 
The feeling for her is much what it is in 
Altenburg for your royal highness.” 
He stopped and laughed a little. “Then, 
too, they love a romance.” 

“It will not affect then, you think, the 
present friendly disposition toward my- 
self?” 

“On the contrary, Sire, since it is not 


Problems 


3 21 


possible for them to suspect an affront to 
Princess Theresa, it is a good stroke of 
diplomacy. It will make them forget the 
boundary dispute, and you can do what 
you like behind their backs.” 

It was a brief paragraph in the Court 
Gazette, printed at noon, which an- 
nounced to the world that the betrothal 
of Princess Theresa of Felzenbruck and 
Prince Roland of Altenburg had been 
annulled. In another column of the same 
paper Prince Friedrich made known the 
engagement of his daughter and Prince 
Albert of Bernitz. It was the chief topic 
of conversation in the cafes and in the 
streets, but Prince Friedrich adroitly 
planned a drive in the park to discount 
the gossip. “The rejected,” as Roland 
was called, was seen to be on such good 
terms with the little Princess and her 
stalwart Prince that the true cause of the 
breaking of the engagement was accepted 
as the only explanation. In such matters 
secrecy does not pay, Prince Friedrich 
had said; if the people are not given the 


3 22 


Roland of Altenburg 


truth they will manufacture lies to take 
its place. 

The old Prince was elated at the suc- 
cess of his coup, and it required no effort 
to show the best of good spirits to the 
crowd during the drive. Prince Albert’s 
devotion flamed out in his eyes now and 
then, and little Theresa’s bubbling happi- 
ness was compensation enough to her 
father and to his subjects for any change 
of bill. It made him particularly jovial, 
and at luncheon after the drive he could 
not resist the opportunity the situation 
gave him. for chaffing. The fickleness of 
his young people formed the theme of a 
humorous homily that had a certain 
foundation of seriousness, and Prince 
Albert was warned more than once with 
much shaking of the head against the 
inconstancy of his fiancee. 

“In my day,” he said with a half smile, 
“we had never heard of falling in love. 
A marriage of convenience was the only 
kind.” 

“Perhaps,” said the little Princess, tilt- 


Problems 


3 2 3 


in g up her chin at him, “you do not real- 
ize what a very inconvenient one Roland’s 
and mine would have been. Suppose 
we had not found out until after mar- 
riage that we each loved some one 
else. Wouldn’t you call that inconve- 
nient?” 

A little laugh went round the table and 
Prince Friedrich took her up. “But that 
is all out of character,” he retorted. 
“You forget that you were born a prin- 
cess. You are not supposed to have a 
mind of your own in such matters. Don’t 
you remember how docile my cousin Ran- 
dolph was about marrying the Servian 
princess he had never seen? There is an 
example for you.” 

“He had really never seen her at all 
until the hour of the nuptials?” asked the 
little Princess. 

“No, the dynasty down there was in 
danger of being overthrown, and it was 
thought that an alliance with Felzenbruck 
would frighten off the revolutionary 
party.” 


3 2 4 


Roland of Altenburg 


“But they could not have been happy,” 
put in Theresa. 

“Not at first, perhaps,” admitted her 
father. “Possibly not until after the 
revolution. It broke out two weeks after 
the marriage.” 

“And did that bring them together?” 
she asked. 

“I hope so. If not, nothing else could 
do it. They were assassinated,” he added 
with grim seriousness, “in the royal 
palace.” 

“O father,” exclaimed the startled little 
Princess, “how gruesome! I did not 
dream you were leading up to that.” 
And then more gayly, “Think, Roland, 
what a fate we have escaped.” 

“Oh, I don’t know,” he answered 
thoughtfully, “it might have its compen- 
sations. A blaze of glory and you, 
Theresa, in the midst of it. It would be 
something.” 

“That is not the kind of glory I am 
clamoring for,” she laughed. “I want 
something more tangible, something I 


Problems 


3 2 5 


can have a little fun with myself. The 
glory that one dies to achieve is pretty, 
but you cannot call it satisfying.” 

“There you are again, little girl,” broke 
in Prince Friedrich, “always wanting to 
be satisfied. I never saw anything so 
unreasonable or so unprincely. Even in 
marrying you have your preferences.” 

Roland laughed. “She comes honestly 
by it, Sire, if I am not mistaken,” he said. 
“Your own marriage, I have been led to 
believe, was not one of convenience.” 

“No, it was not,” Friedrich said with 
decision. “But I narrowly missed being 
bestowed upon a Portuguese Princess.” 

“When you rebelled and married my 
gentle little mother,” Theresa said. 

“You couldn’t blame me if you had ever 
seen the Princess,” Friedrich answered 
with a laugh. “She lives in Paris now — 
exiled — and you may see her any fine day 
sitting at a cafe in the Bois sipping ab- 
sinthe and smoking a huge black cigar.” 

“You are cruel, Sire,” Roland said 
gravely. “It was the loss of you that 


326 


Roland of Altenburg 


drove her to these excesses.” * And 
Prince Friedrich laughed with the rest. 

“There is one thing, Roland,” he said 
after a moment, “for which you ought to 
make reparation. Those wonderful litho- 
graphs of the happy couple are a dead 
loss to the shop-keepers. They paid real 
money for them.” 

“It serves them right,” the Princess said 
in much indignation. “Neither one of us 
ever looked like them.” 

“A capital idea,” Friedrich exclaimed. 
“They can substitute Albert’s name for 
Roland’s, and no one will know the differ- 
ence. The portrait looks as unlike one as 
the other.” 

As the little company rose from the 
table, Prince Friedrich said to Theresa 
with a twinkle in his eye, “You might 
show Albert the new Brazilian orchids. 
The conservatory is quiet, you know. 
But don’t let the orchids have the same 
effect upon you as when you showed them 
to Roland. You cannot get out of this 
alliance.” 


Problems 


327 


Theresa laughingly led the way to the 
conservatory, and Roland accompanied 
Prince Friedrich into the library. The 
boundary question became the order of 
the day. The danger that the subject 
might be associated with the breaking of 
the royal engagement made it essential 
that an agreement be announced imme- 
diately. For two hours they pored over 
maps and consulted with the ministers. 
The original allotment of the boundary 
had been made three centuries before, 
but gradually both nations had over- 
stepped their lines. Now in place of an 
almost straight line to mark the division, 
the boundary had shifted as much as twenty 
miles in some places and formed a zigzag 
trail. The mineral wealth extended 
along these lines, but in one place Fel- 
zenbruck capitalists had developed mines 
which were actually on Altenburg soil, 
and Roland’s radical party had forced a 
demand that the lands should be sur- 
rendered. This case was typical of others, 
and both countries had much at stake. 


328 


Roland of Altenburg 


Roland argued his case forcefully, but 
with a tact that won over the older ruler 
almost too easily. Friedrich was in a 
particularly genial mood, and he had seen 
enough of men and the world to be gener- 
ous. Roland pointed out the need of 
returning to the original lines and sug- 
gested that a new survey be made. It 
would then be possible to determine the 
identity of the transgressors. He further 
offered to protect any Felzenbruck prop- 
erty that might lie on his side of the line 
if Prince Friedrich would do the same 
for Altenburg. As far as the individual 
wealth was concerned, each mine owner 
would be unaffected except that he would 
pay taxes in the country in which his 
plant actually existed. The scheme 
seemed equitable to Prince Friedrich, 
who with characteristic warmheartedness 
overlooked the fact that the most valu- 
able mines would belong to Altenburg. 

A formal basis of settlement was drawn 
up and signed by the two rulers. The 
survey was to be undertaken by a joint 


Problems 


3 2 9 


commission, and by its decision each 
nation agreed to stand. The temporary 
agreement was signed in the presence of 
Friedrich’s cabinet and the minister of 
Altenburg. The settlement, although a 
perfectly fair one, was a triumph for 
Roland, and the ease and graciousness 
with which Prince Friedrich adopted his 
suggestions made him feel that he was 
not without a talent for diplomacy. 



. 









































































































, 
















































» 








I • 

, 


















































The Return 


33i 


XXVIII 

The Return 


JVEN Roland’s impatience could 
not force a retreat before the next 
morning, but he bore the restraint 
gracefully. Having gained his 
point in more than one direction, he could 
afford to be generous. Tea in the sunny t 
library with the little Princess and some 
of the ladies of the court followed the 
settlement of the boundary dispute. In 
some subtle way, here as elsewhere, 
Roland felt that his popularity was in- 
creased by the new turn of affairs where 
he had expected it to be diminished. 
Evidently anything which contributed 
to the happiness of the little Princess, 
who was passionately loved, satisfied 
the court as well as the people. At the 
banquet, which wound up the day, he was 
made the lion of the occasion, and the 
liking shown for him by Theresa was 




33 2 Roland of Altenburg 


reflected in her guests. He toasted her 
in a swift little speech which had enough 
warmth in it to enflame their admiration. 
It pleased him — this enthusiasm — but the 
thing that pleased him most was a word 
or two with the little Princess herself at 
the end of the evening. She drew him 
aside and they sat down together, with 
the music and the flutter and the gayety 
beyond them. He wore the full dress 
uniform of the Felzenbruck hussars, and 
she, her dark hair coiled low in the neck, 
was in white that gleamed and shimmered. 

“I shall not see you in the morning, 
Roland,” she said, “so I must tell you 
now that it is good to know you. I hope 
this is only the beginning of our friend- 
ship.” 

“It is the beginning of something that 
will be very precious to me, little cousin,” 
he answered. “I am glad that it was in 
my power to give you what you want. I 
am glad you were brave enough to tell 
me your story.” 

“Do you really call it brave? There 


The Return 


333 


were times when I thought it cow- 
ardly.” 

Roland looked at her with a certain 
curiosity. “It would be pretty hard,” he 
said gently, “for you to be a coward.” 

“Hard!” she exclaimed with a laugh, 
“you have no idea how easy it is. But, 
Roland,” she added more seriously, “you 
will need courage. It will not be very 
simple for you even now.” 

There was a lovely sympathy in her 
eyes and he leaned forward to take it 
all in. 

“No,” he answered gravely, “it will not 
be simple. But you have shown me the 
way. By your help I mean to win out.” 
He gave a careless laugh. “You see you 
can’t escape an alliance with me. Fate 
will have its way.” 

“And this time we help it along,” she 
agreed. “It’s queer how much pleasanter 
a thing like that is if we begin it our- 
selves.” 

“Yes,” Roland laughed, “if our blun- 
dering relations had left us alone per- 


334 


Roland of Altenburg 


haps things would have happened differ- 
ently.” 

She smiled a whimsical smile. “But 
then,” she said softly, “there was always 
Albert” 

“Yes,” and he laughed again. “I for- 
got. There was always Albert.” 

“There always is some one else, isn’t 
there?” she said with a quaint distress. 
“You know there was with you.” 

“Yes,” he repeated, “there was with 
me.” 

“But aren’t you glad?” she asked 
eagerly. 

“Things are desperately uncertain for 
me, Theresa,” he answered. “I am not 
even sure that she cares.” 

The little Princess gave an exclamation 
of distress, though her dismay lasted only 
for a moment. “But you are sure,” she 
contradicted him gayly, “you must be sure. 
I know perfectly well that she cares.” 

“Well, if she does ” He stopped 

abruptly. “Wish me luck, little cousin.” 

“The very best!” There was a warmth 


The Return 


335 


in her voice that he liked. “You may 
count on me.” 

“I do count on you, Theresa. You are 
a thoroughbred.” 

She laughed and rose. “I’ll not forget 
that, Roland. We have formed an alli- 
ance, haven’t we? It is a strong one — 
the strongest kind. And now we’ll go 
back to Albert.” 

“Do you know there is something about 
Albert that I rather like?” said Roland. 

It was at ten the next morning that 
Prince Roland’s special left for Ober- 
holtz. Prince Friedrich and Albert of 
Bernitz accompanied him to the station, 
and the expressions of good-will with 
which they parted were by no means 
perfunctory. Along the route crowds 
were assembled to see him again, and to 
Roland their cheers seemed as lusty as 
when he arrived. The open admiration 
of the populace assembled at the station 
made his progress to the train slow, and 
somewhat difficult. But after they were 
seated in the car and just before it pulled 


336 


Roland of Altenburg 


out, Roland looked at his successful rival 
rather quizzically. 

‘Tve been pretty good to you, Albert,” 
he said. “You don’t deserve it, of course, 
but if you make her think you do I shall 
not be sorry.” 

Prince Albert’s reply lay in a look, but 
it was eloquent. 

It was hard to say good-bye to the new 
friends, and the warmth of their parting 
lingered in his heart far on the road to 
Altenburg. Yet it did not make the 
journey less tedious to his restless 
impatience. He chafed at every stop, 
and when the Altenburg line was finally 
crossed, he could hardly answer cour- 
teously the applause of the jubilant crowds 
at the towns along the route. 

At the capital there was a great demon- 
stration in honor of the young ruler. 
Roland rather wondered at it until von 
Becker whispered to him that he had done 
the most popular thing possible in up- 
holding the dignity of Altenburg in a 
controversy with a stronger nation. The 


The Return 


337 


desired alliance was forgotten in this 
triumph. So it was through cheering 
crowds that Prince Roland drove in state 
with his brilliant escort of troops to 
Castle Rheinwald. 




A State Dinner 


339 


XXIX 

A State Dinner 

T SEEMED good to Prince Roland 
to be at home again, and he made 
the fatigue of the journey an ex- 
cuse to retire to his own apart- 
ments. Then at last he could allow the 
thought of the one face that had not 
been a part of his welcome to have its 
way with him. He could not rest with- 
out seeing Katherine at once, yet to 
arrange it was not a simple matter. Any- 
thing he might do would be the sub- 
ject of comment. But he did not care; 
things had gone too far for that. He 
remembered that an opportunity might 
be found in the state dinner which some 
one had told him had been arranged for 
that night. Summoning the lord chamber- 
lain, he learned that it was a small one of 
not more than forty covers, but planned, 
as a welcome to the ruler, to include the 



340 


Roland of Altenburg 


most distinguished men and women at 
the capital. 

“You will increase the number by six, 
my lord,” said Roland. “Send cards at 
once to Mrs. Gerard, Miss Barrington and 
Miss Rand at the Grand Hotel. As for 
the men, ask whom you like. You will 
know best what is fitting.” 

The dinner was at nine and it was 
already six, so the lord chamberlain re- 
tired somewhat hurriedly to obey his 
masters startling command. 

Von Meyer was sent for and Roland 
learned for the first time the story of the 
runaway escape. It was simple enough. 
One of the horses, shot in the skirmish, 
had fallen a quarter of a mile across the 
boundary, but the pace had grown slower 
and no one was injured. At the expense 
of a three-mile walk to the nearest vil- 
lage, they had taken the train to the cap- 
ital. Once there, proceedings were 
immediately instituted for Roland’s re- 
lease from Stanek. Von Meyer had been 
afraid of some trick on Zito’s part, so 


A State Dinner 


34i 


they were rushed to a conclusion. It was 
only when the Colonel spoke of Zito that 
Roland remembered that not once at the 
court of Felzenbruck had his name been 
mentioned. Prince Friedrich, with royal 
courtesy, had demanded no explanation 
of Roland’s presence at Stanek, and none 
had been given. To von Meyer, however, 
he told the story of his adventures with a 
whimsical appreciation of their grim humor. 

It was only after they were ended, when 
the question of Theresa’s marriage came 
up, that von Meyer told Roland of another 
broken engagement. From Mrs. Gerard 
he had learned that Stanley Lockwood 
had sailed for America. She confessed 
that she had dismissed him at the request 
of her niece immediately after the escape 
from Stanek. She had long felt that the 
time was bound to come when Katherine 
would find him out. To Roland this news 
was welcome, but it made him realize how 
little Lockwood had counted with him, 
how slight a part this engagement had 
played in his plans. 


342 


Roland of Altenburg 


It was time to dress for dinner when 
the conference ended, and Roland pre- 
pared to receive his guests in some state. 
They were assembled in the long drawing- 
room when he entered, but his eyes 
instantly found Katherine Barrington 
where she stood tall and radiant. She 
flushed, he noticed, as he made his way 
slowly toward her, stopping to speak to 
certain officers and members of the cabi- 
net who seemed to demand his attention. 
Afterward he wondered what he could 
have said to them, for there was nothing 
in his mind except this slender thing in 
yellow, outlined against the crimson hang- 
ings. He felt as though they were 
alone — as though he had made his way to 
her through obstacles and terrors, as 
though he had been fighting to come out 
with her upon this serenity. 

When he greeted her at last there 
seemed to be nothing to say. For a mo- 
ment they stood silent, unconscious of the 
crowd around them, feeling only a won- 
derful content. Then the world broke 


A State Dinner 


343 


upon them again, and the woman felt it 
first. 

“I owe you too much/’ she said, “for 
thanks. You will believe that I feel it.” 

“You owe me nothing,” he replied with 
quick emphasis. “I could not pay you for 
what you have given me in a million 
years, not if I worked always for nothing 
else, not if I should lay everything at 
your feet.” 

The moment was tense. She laughed 
to keep her lip from quivering. “It is 
you who have always done things,” she 
said, her eyes bright, her mouth a little 
troubled. “I have passively allowed you 
to risk your life and more than your life. 
You gave me no choice.” 

“No,” he said gravely, “I gave you no 
choice.” He laughed a little, but there 
was something very serious behind it. 
“I do not mean to give you any choice.” 

Before she could answer, the lord cham- 
berlain was at his elbow, and he was 
obliged to give his arm to the dowager 
Duchess of Pletz, who was a guest at 


344 


Roland of Altenburg 


court. They led the way into the ban- 
quet-hall, and the others followed in a 
glittering procession. When they were 
seated Roland found himself separated 
by a long distance and many orchids from 
the one woman he cared to watch. It 
was only with an effort that he could see 
her red-gold hair through the sprays of 
lavender and green. He found it difficult 
to do his duty by his guests. He drifted 
into dangerous silences, from which he 
roused himself reluctantly. It was neces- 
sary, he realized at last, to pull himself 
together and take command. And when 
he once reached this decision he did it 
effectively, even brilliantly. To him the 
long dinner passed off slowly, but to 
some of the others he made it swift and 
charming. Prince Roland had a courtly 
courtesy about him at times, and he 
brought it to bear now upon the Duchess 
of Pletz — so effectively that he found in 
after days that he had gained a valuable 
adherent. 

When the dinner was over and the men 


A State Dinner 


345 


were left to their coffee and cigars, Ro- 
land easily held the mastery. Politics in 
America came up for discussion, and his 
knowledge of the country enabled him to 
throw some side-lights upon the informa- 
tion of the diplomats. But the discussion, 
lively as it was, did not last long. At the 
earliest possible moment the Prince gave 
the signal to join the ladies. He led the 
way into the music-room where they were 
assembled, and with von Becker at his 
elbow advanced precipitately upon Kath- 
erine where she sat talking with the 
Duchess of Pletz. It was a simple 
manceuver for Roland to appropriate the 
attention of the girl and swing his aide 
aside into position before the dowager. 

“There is a new Monet/’ he said to her, 
“in the long gallery. Would you like to 
see it?” He smiled a little, remembering 
Prince Friedrich’s Brazilian orchids, which 
he had never seen. 

There were several others in the long 
gallery when they entered, but in the 
recess where the shimmering Monet was 


346 


Roland of Altenburg 


hung they were alone. He seated her on 
the green divan and stood watching her 
while she looked at the painting. Yet he 
felt that it was not of its blues and pur- 
ples that she was conscious. 

“It is very lovely,” she said at last, but 
she flushed as she said it. 

“Katherine, do you know what I want 
you to do?” 

His voice was tense and he had not 
before called her by her name. She 
looked up at him quickly and her breath 
caught in her throat. 

“I want you to be my wife,” he went 
on. “There is nothing but that for me in 
the world. Could you do it? Is it asking 
too much?” 

The happy little laugh that she gave 
showed that she had forgotten everything 
but the one thing. “I almost think I 
could do it,” she said in a quick impulse. 
“Would you really be glad?” 

“Glad!” He said only that, but it was 
enough. She was satisfied. Yet it was 
only an instant before it all swept over 


A State Dinner 


347 


her in a flood — who he was, what it 
meant, all the miserable difficulties. He 
saw it coming and put out his hand to 
help her as if she were drowning. She 
looked up with eyes that were saddened, 
and when she spoke there was a strange 
new note in her voice. 

“If you were different, if you were really 
Donald Scott,” she said. He would have 
interrupted her, but she stopped him hur- 
riedly. “But as it is, it is too impossible. 
They would fight it, Roland, and they 
have a right to fight it. I cannot let you 
face it.” 

The name had slipped from her uncon- 
sciously, and it made his eyes gleam. But 
it was very gravely that he replied to her. 
“I mean to face it,” he said slowly. “If 
you love me it will be nothing. I shall 
not feel it.” 

“It would be revolutionary,” she pro- 
tested. “It would not be permitted.” 

“It would ignore tradition certainly,” 
he answered. “But I know what I can do 
with my cabinet and with this court.” 


348 


Roland of Altenburg 


“It would make you unpopular with the 
people,” she persisted. “And you could 
not do for them what you have planned.” 

He laughed with a new gayety. “We’ll 
carry it through in a blaze of glory. 
We’ll make it the most popular romance 
of the day.” 

“It would be throwing away your oppor- 
tunities,” she answered. 

Roland realized that she was arguing 
against herself. He sat down beside her 
on the divan. “Do you love me, Kather- 
ine?” he asked very softly. 

She ignored the question. “It would 
mean restrictions and compromises,” she 
protested again. 

“Do you love me, Katherine?” he 
repeated. 

“They would look down upon you,” she 
said with a lift of the chin, “and because 
of me. I could not endure that.” 

“Katherine, do you really think that all 
this counts?” he replied, and his voice was 
very gentle. “Do these little things mean 
anything to you in comparison with the 


A State Dinner 


349 


great thing? If you love me, that is the 
whole matter. I am not afraid of the 
rest.” 

Her deep eyes were misty as he looked 
into them. “How can I tell?” she said 
with a pathetic droop of the lips. “Per- 
haps it’s the glamour of your name and 
position. Perhaps it will not last.” 

He laughed exultantly. “I mean to 
make it last,” he said. “I mean to sur- 
round you with the glamour. You shall 
never discover your mistake. Don’t you 
see, child,” he added more seriously, 
“that there is no other way? Haven’t 
you felt it really from the very first? 
Give me a word, Katherine. Tell me 
that you have.” 

She smiled with trembling lips. “How 
do I know what I have felt? I feel 

now ” She paused and her eyes were 

wonderful. “Oh, just as if no one could 
ever have felt anything before.” 

“So much as that?” said Roland. There 
was something almost reverential in his 
voice. His eyes were upon her, but he 


35° 


Roland of Altenburg 


did not move. “Katherine,” he said 
quietly, “I could kiss you for that.” 

At this she laughed and it broke the 
tension. “But you won’t,” she said, look- 
ing out for the first time into the gallery. 
“Here, with the Duchess of Pletz pre- 
tending to admire the pictures while she 
watches you, and Count von Becker warily 
turning his back, and the lord chamber- 
lain hovering anxiously — wouldn’t it make 
a pleasant little ripple?” She laughed 
again. It was very easy to laugh. 
“Come, we must go back to them. We 
have prepared them — more than we 
thought, perhaps — for our sensation.” 
She rose and held out her hand as he 
rose, too. Standing with her back to the 
others and with her radiant face to him, 
she had one more word. “Roland, it 
means just you and me against the world 
— for always.” 


THE END 






S “ 




f 


. 

















I 

















































' 










. * 







/ 

















' 








. 







s - 






SEP 29 1904 





